Blind
by Sorsha711
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. JMOFC FinOlivia
1. Chapter 1

Title: Blind, Chapter 1

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 1

-----

Munch rose from behind his desk and stretched, hoping to ease the strain on his lower back. While a day without any new cases falling into their laps was a welcome change after the hectic pace of the last few weeks, a day spent in the office doing paperwork was hardly simulating. Reaching for his jacket, he looked over at his partner, Odafin "Fin" Tutuola. "Want to grab a burger and beer, Fin? My treat."

Without looking up, Tutuola nodded. "'Bout time. Been your time to buy for a while now. Give me a sec to finish this report. Cap wants it today."

"OK." Glancing over at the only other occupant of the squad room, he offered, "Interested in a night on the town with two of New York's finest finest, Liv? I'm buying."

A bright smile lit her lovely face as she teased, "John Munch buying? Isn't that one of the seven signs?"

Grinning, Munch agreed, "Yeah, I'm the Horseman of Cynicism and Sarcasm."

Chuckling, Olivia began to shut down her computer. "Well, that would make you the little-known and over-looked eighth horseman, but a burger and beer in the company of two such gorgeous men sounds good."

"Gorgeous are we? Wish I'd known you felt like this sooner, Livvie," Munch teased, an exaggerated leer settling on his face. "How have you managed to resist our charms for so long?"

Rolling her eyes, she responded, "It's a constant struggle, but I think I can remain strong for the good of the unit. Your virtues… such as they are, are safe with me."

Pushing back from his desk, Fin joined the fray. "Can't speak for the Munchkin, but I'm not the type to kiss and tell. Don't want to cause you any pain by forcing you to restrain these urges."

"Discretion is my middle-name," Munch inserted, waggling his eyebrows. "Not a word, scout's honor," he pledged, his fingers held up like a Boy Scout.

"Get real! If you got lucky, you'd be up on the roof tossing ticker tape and shouting out to anyone that would listen!" Fin scoffed.

"Yeah, I can hear it now! 'I got laid! I finally got laid!'"

Turning, the three found they had been joined by their Captain. "_Et tu, Brute_?" Munch demanded. "Pot meet kettle."

Grinning, Don Cragen asked, "Do I need to send the three of you to sensitivity training on sexual harassment?"

"Just Livvie. She called us gorgeous. I feel so violated," Munch quipped.

Throwing up her hands, Olivia assumed an innocent look. "It must have been the shock of Munch offering to buy!"

"Yeah, that would do it," Cragen agreed. "Fin, you about finished with that report?"

Rising, the younger policeman walked over to hand the requested document to his boss. "Yeah, Cap. Just finished."

"Despite your cruel and hurtful words, I was about to ask if you wanted to join us for a burger and beer." Sending Olivia a smirk, he added, "I'm treating. Apparently, the shock of that offer is enough to break down Detective Benson's self-control, so you better come along to protect Fin and me."

"Yeah. Not to sound like I'm taking up for Munch, but the way things have been lately, any of the four of us is likely to be up on the roof with the confetti in the morning if things get out of hand." Grabbing his jacket, Fin added, "This will be the first time in weeks we've gotten out of here at a reasonable hour."

As if fate had been waiting for that statement, the phone on Munch's desk rang. Three sets of eyes turned to glare at Tutuola. "Just had to say it didn't you. We were that close!" Munch muttered, measuring the distance to their escape by two fingers almost touching.

Reaching for the phone, he answered, "Munch, SVU."

-----

"What do we have, O'Malley?"

Looking up, the veteran uniformed officer greeted them. "Damnedest thing I've seen in a while, Cap. Marino and I responded to a call about a woman screaming for help from down in that ravine."

Leading the way to an incline that dropped down into a heavily wooded area, he pointed to a spot barely visible through the dense foliage. "From what we've pieced together, a teenage girl was being assaulted by a group of young punks. Several bystanders heard her screams for help and called it in."

Turning to face his commander, he continued. "Apparently, a female jogger came up at that point and demanded someone help the girl. When no one stepped forward, she took off down the hill to try and help the vic herself."

"Unarmed? So, we have two vics to deal with?" Cragen asked, rubbing his neck in frustration. Much as he admired her courage, he hated the thought that it had gotten her hurt… or killed.

"Can't find either woman, Cap," was his reply. "They were gone by the time we got here and got the situation under control… had to call in backup. Five men have been transported to the hospital for treatment… none looked to be hurt seriously. The rest are being treated by the EMT's here at the scene."

Frowning, Cragen faced his officer. "What do you mean you can't find the victims? You have all the perps in custody, right?"

"I think we have them all," O'Malley hedged, pointing to a cluster of young men handcuffed and surrounded by a several grim-faced uniformed officers. "Those are the ones we found fighting. We haven't had time to take statements or sort out the perps from the onlookers that eventually came to the women's aid. Like I said, some of those in the fight were pretty banged up and a couple had knife wounds, but none of them seemed too serious. We're still securing the site and getting them to shut up long enough for us to figure out whose who."

"OK. I got it," Cragen inserted, "Back to the vics; where are they?"

"Lady in the blue shorts talking to Marino saw the whole thing. From what she says, the lady jogger grabbed a tree branch on her way down the hill and used it like a bat to take out two of the perps… clocked them pretty good the witness says." Clearly impressed by the jogger's courage, the veteran officer continued. "Then she went after the one raping the girl, managing to knock him off of her. The rest of the perps then laid into the jogger… started whaling on her."

Glancing down at his notes, O'Malley continued, "Seems the male onlookers, seven in all, found their balls about then and ran down to help. When we got here, there was a fight in progress between the perps and the onlookers… a few more onlookers had tagged on at the end, so it was bedlam. The two women had vanished while all of this was going on. We were just getting things under control when you arrived."

"OK, finding the two women is top priority." Looking over at his detectives, Cragen ordered, "You three take several uniforms and spread out. They couldn't have gotten far if they are injured. I'll start trying to sort out the bullshit from the rest to make sure we have all the perps in custody. Get to it."

-----

"Found as blood trail"

Hearing Olivia's call, the rest of the officers sprinted to her side. "It looks like they collapsed here and rolled down the hill toward that bank."

Jogging down to the bottom, Fin called, "There's a stream running below here. Seems reasonable to assume they fell in… maybe got pulled downstream. We need to search along the banks."

Stopping at his partner's side, Munch crouched down and studied the ground below them. "It's getting dark and there's a storm coming from the sounds of that thunder. We need to find them fast. If it starts raining, the water in this creek will rise fast. We will lose them and the blood trail… assuming there is one."

Holding onto a small tree trunk next to the bank for support, Munch dropped down to the narrow bank on their side of the stream. "Water appears to be about 18" deep. Deep enough to drag them along if they are injured."

Seeing Fin and Olivia preparing to follow him down, Munch grabbed onto a sapling growing on the edge of the water and stepped into the current so that he could wade across. "The current isn't very strong, so hopefully, they were able to get out. Liv, take the uniforms and get them searching downstream from up there. It's too narrow for more than two of us on the banks, so Fin and I will search down here."

"Got it. You heard him. Let's get going. They may have been separated by the fall, so assume we have two separate exit points to find," Olivia instructed, pulling out her flashlight to aid her in the gathering dusk. "Night… and a storm are coming. Move."

The two detectives on the stream banks did the same, both knowing time was running out for both woman given the amount of blood they had found on the trail down to the creek.

-----

"Fin… I've found blood. Looks like one or both of our vics tried to crawl into this culvert for cover," Munch called, bending to enter to a large drainage pipe.

Training the beam of his flashlight along the base of the narrow tunnel, he found what looked to be a few spots of fresh blood. "Police. Is anybody in here?"

Straining to hear over a loud clap of thunder, he detected the sounds of someone crying. Moving a few feet further in, he tried again. "My name is John. I'm a police detective. You're safe. Just let me know where you are, so I can help you."

"Stay away!"

Focusing his light fifty feet in front of him, he breathed a little easier to find the two women huddled at the base of the junction of two sections of drainage pipe. The pair was surrounded by trash and debris washed into the pipes from above. From where he stood, he noted that one of the two… one wearing blooded jogging shorts and a tank top appeared to be unconscious. The other, the teen rape victim from all appearances, was cradling the jogger close to her and brandishing a broken bottle. Her clothing hung in tatters around her battered body.

"Stay away!"

After calling to Fin to let him know he had found them, Munch slowly moved toward the two women. "I'm a cop. Let me help you and your friend. She looks like she needs a doctor."

Frantic eyes wavered from their focus on him and dipped to look at the woman in her arms. "How… how do I know I can trust you… that you really are a policeman?"

Reaching up to pull the chain holding his badge over his head, John offered, "I'm going to toss you my badge, OK? My name's John. What's yours?"

The badge landed softly in her lap. Recognizing the gold shield in the flashlight's beam, she seemed to collapse into herself. "I'm Lucy… Lucy Hellman."

Seeing the broken bottle fall from her hands, Munch quickly moved to their side. "Hi Lucy. We need to get you and your friend out of here as soon as possible. There is a storm coming and this culvert will soon be flooded with rainwater. Can you stand?"

"No… my leg hurts. I think it broke when I fell down the hill from the path. I was meeting a friend… They pushed me from behind. I never saw…" she whispered, sobs beginning to rack her frame. "They… they kept hitting me and… were going to rape me. Sam stopped them!"

"Sam?" Munch asked, checking the jogger's pulse to make sure she was still alive. While it was weak, he breathed a little easier. She was alive for now, but he needed to get her help immediately. Calling over his shoulder, he asked, "Fin, can you help my friend Lucy while I take… Sam is her name?"

"Yeah… she told me before she passed out," the girl sobbed.

Gently untangling the girl's hold on the woman, Munch offered, "Lucy, my partner will be here to help you as soon as I get out of his way. His name is Fin. He's a great guy, so just let him help you, OK? I need to get Sam to the doctor immediately."

"Is she going to…?"

Breaking in before she could become hysterical, he soothed, "Not if I can help it. Wait for Fin. You did great getting her to a safe place… protecting her like she did you, but we need to let the doctors take over. Relax. You will both be fine."

While he was talking, he pulled off his jacket, so that he could rip off his shirt. Balling up the fabric, Munch used it to form a compress to try and stem the bleeding from a deep wound in her side. Using his tie, he secured the compress around her waist as tightly as he dared.

After wrapping his jacket around her shivering body and dropping the chain for his badge over his head, he carefully lifted the injured woman into his arms and began to ease his way out of the culvert. Other than a soft moan of pain as he shifted her, she gave no sign she was aware of what was happening. The cramped conditions slowed his pace as he was forced to try and walk in a stooped position while carrying her limp form. His back screamed in protest.

Arriving at the mouth of the culvert, Munch was relieved to find that Olivia had alerted the paramedics that their victims had been found. An EMT was waiting to take the injured woman from him as Fin disappeared back into the tunnel for Lucy. "She has a deep wound on her left side and it looks like she's lost a lot of blood. I packed it with my shirt. She's also got a head wound… and who knows what else. They did a number on her."

"Right," the paramedic responded, easing the woman onto a stretcher. "Tony… this rain is picking up. Let's get her to the bus before we start treatment. The shirt should give us a few minutes to get her there. Detective, can you give us a hand and keep the pressure on the wound while we carry the stretcher?"

Jumping down from the culvert, Munch took his place at her side. "Sure."

"We'll need help getting her up the incline," the second paramedic, Tony, observed.

"Olivia, we need help getting this stretcher up. Who's with you?" Munch called.

Within seconds, several officers had gathered at the top of the bank. The stretcher, Munch and the two paramedics were quickly pulled up, and were soon racing up the hill to the waiting ambulance. A driving rain slowed their progress, as they struggled to keep their footing on the wet leaves and mulch.

Over his shoulder, Munch called, "Fin is bringing up the vic. Her name's Lucy Hellman… looks to be around 16 or 17. This lady… Sam is all I have so far, saved her from being raped. Both have been beaten badly."

"Got it," Benson called, turning to wait for Fin and the girl. Trading a look with the other officers, she noted, "I sure hope she makes it. That lady is a hero."

The grim-faced men all nodded as the ones closest to the bank bent to help Tutuola and his charge. A second set of paramedics took over, easing the injured girl onto a stretcher for transport to the hospital. Under the circumstances, they all knew they had been lucky to find both of them alive. Now they could only wait and pray they would both survive their ordeal.

-----

A/N --- quote from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar Act III, Scene I. Translates as '_You too, Brutus_!'


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Blind, Chapter 2

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Fin, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 2

-----

Looking over at Olivia Benson as she dropped wearily into the chair next to him, Munch murmured, "Thanks," as he accepted the cup of coffee she held out to him. "Sam… the jogger, is still in surgery. Too soon to know if she will make it. Lucy is sedated and sleeping. Her parents are with her and her two older brothers are on their way. Doctors say she will make a full recovery."

"You talked to her yet?" Olivia asked, taking the top off of her own cup.

"Briefly. She's still in shock and was groggy from the meds. Didn't get any more info than what she'd already told me at the scene." Following her lead, Munch opened his coffee before summarizing, "It will be morning before we can get their statements… assuming Sam makes it. What happened at the scene after I left on the bus?"

"Took us a while to sort out the perps from the ones that came to their rescue. We arrested six at the scene and another two here at the ER. Two are under 16. Elliot's back from Albany, so he and Fin are interrogating them at the station. Don and I took the witness statements from the onlookers involved in the brawl. A couple were arrogant pricks that thought they were such studs for what they did, but most were pretty normal guys that ultimately did the right thing. Two were feeling bad they waited so long to help… especially when they saw San and Lucy going by on stretchers." Leaning her head wearily back against the wall, she concluded, "O'Malley is completing the general witness interviews and CSU is sweeping the scene for anything the rain left behind."

"Not likely to be much other than the weapons and the branch Sam used," Munch noted. "Any blood or fluid evidence was washed away within minutes."

"Yeah. You ready to call it a day, John?" she asked. "Nothing more we can do here until we can talk to them."

"You go. I think I'll stay around until the surgery is over." Feeling her eyes on him, Munch added, "We still don't have an ID on her, so there's no one out here waiting to see if she makes it except me. She got hurt helping that girl and… it just seems like the least I can do is wait until I hear how she's doing before I leave."

His answer didn't surprise her. It never failed to amaze her how gentle and compassionate John Munch could be when dealing with one of their victims. In those moments, he allowed himself to drop the cynical, indifferent façade he habitually wore like a shield and let them see inside to the real man.

She had gotten more than a few glimpses of the real man over the years and it bothered her deeply that he made such an effort to keep even his closest friends at arm's length… hide his true self from them. At some point, it had become a mission to her to find a way to change that, a mission she secretly had dubbed 'Freeing the Munchkin'. Knowing from experience that a direct assault never worked with John, she elected to use a roundabout approach, playing to his well-developed sense of humor.

Eying the hospital scrubs a nurse in the ER had given him after CSU had taken his blood-stained clothes for processing, she smirked, "Nice look. I like that you're open to trying new styles, but I have to be honest and tell you puke-green isn't your best color. All black sophistication suits you much better."

A faint smile quirked his lips in response to her teasing. "I'm starting to wonder about you, Livvie. First you call me gorgeous and now you're commenting on my attire… all in one day. Confess; you want me."

Stifling a laugh, she nodded. "I should have known a detective of your skills would see though my charade."

Cutting his eyes to gauge her response to his next comment, he retorted, "Yeah, I have. So when are you going to let Fin know you're in love with him?"

Sputtering on a sip of her own coffee, Olivia wiped at the blotch that had spilled on her blouse. Their conversation was not starting out as she had planned. Seven years of experience in dealing with him had taught her it was dangerous to let him have the upper hand. "Not funny, John."

"I didn't mean it to be funny, Det. Benson. I was asking a legitimate question." After taking another sip of his own coffee, he continued, "While I know the rumor going around the precinct is that you and Elliot have something going, I work too closely with all three of you not to know the real score."

Frowning, she demanded, "And what is it you think you know?"

Shifting in his seat in hopes of finding a more comfortable position, Munch observed, "You and Elliot love it each other, but aren't **in** love with each other. He's your partner… your best friend, and neither of you has any interest in ruining a perfectly good relationship by trying to make it into something its not. Besides, he is still coming to terms with his divorce and isn't ready to start seeing anyone seriously yet."

Giving up on finding a comfortable position, Munch stretched his long legs out in front of him as he continued. "Now, Fin… you can barely take your eyes off of him. When he's out on a call, you pace the floor and watch the door. When he gets back, your face… your smile lights the room. If it's your turn to make the lunch run, Elliot and I can hang it up if we want something different than Fin. You look at any other woman that comes within 10 feet of him as if she's a perp about to go for her gun."

"And then there's the little matter of your 'social life'… or should I say the total lack of one," he mused. "You want Fin and no one else will do, so you sleep alone. You gave up trying to find a substitute a year ago and have been a bear to live with ever since. You so need to get laid, my dear Olivia, and my partner has yet to catch a clue for all his smarts."

Looking over to meet her stunned gaze, he questioned, "How am I doing so far, Detective?"

After a brief pause, she asked quietly, "And Fin? What do you see there?"

Smirking openly that he had been right… not that he hadn't already been sure he was, he replied, "Let's see. It's been over a year since he last mentioned dating anyone even semi-seriously and none of us have heard him trying to talk his way out of a post one-night-stand phone call in months. He admitted he was just as likely to be up on the roof shouting he had gotten laid as I would be and… he's not much better than you at keeping his eyes on his work and not following your every move like a love-sick teenager."

Chuckling, he added, "Who do you think has been keeping the frig stocked with half and half for your morning coffee… has been buying the Krispy Kremes you like best? Have you failed to notice how often he appears at your side if there is even a hint of danger at a scene? Or is it that you are the one moving to protect him? Personally, I think its both. Stabler, Huang, and I are making bets on which of you makes a move first and when… how. My money's on you by the way."

The guarded look that had shuddered her face seconds before slowly gave way to a cautious smile. "You know you will have to forfeit the bet if I make a move based on this conversation? You rigged the outcome."

"Now why would I do that?" he teased, dipping his head to give her his over the top of his glasses smirk. "You're the only one that knows we had this conversation. Why would you give me up since I just made you a very happy lady?"

Grinning, she murmured, "Why indeed? Any suggestions for the how or when?"

Chuckling, he nodded. "Next chance you get, walk out with him when he leaves for the day and casually suggest a drink. I'll have the confetti waiting on both your desks for the next morning."

"Simple as that?"

"Simple as that," Munch confirmed, still holding her gaze. "While I know the Department will frown on the two of you getting involved… that you will have to fly under the radar so they won't transfer one of you to another division, I think the two of you would be good for each other. You balance each other pretty well and you both need someone that can appreciate the demands of our jobs… provide the emotional support you've both been missing in other relationships. Go for it, Livvie. You both need a life-partner."

Nodding in agreement, she asked, "And what about you, my friend? Don't you need a life-partner?"

Olivia felt her heart constrict as she watched the aching loneliness he usually kept well-hidden overtake his features. With uncharacteristic self-honesty, he nodded. "Yeah, I do, but… I've accepted it's not likely to happen at this point in my life. Too many mistakes… too many scars. Trying isn't in me anymore."

Reaching out to lay a hand on his arm, she urged, "You have so much to offer, John; don't give up. It's all a matter of the right one for all of us. You need someone to share your bed… your life as much as Fin and I do."

A resigned smile greeted her words. "Are you offering to help me find Ms. Right, Livvie? I'm past the point where I can settle for a tryst with Miss Right-Now. Sex for sex only is pretty depressing at my age. Don't get me wrong… I'd dearly like to have sex life; I just want a committed partner to go along with it."

"Sex for sex only is pretty depressing at any age, John, no matter what any of us try to tell ourselves. You deserve more." Squeezing his arm, she grinned, "I may just take on the role of matchmaker. Want to give me a wish list?"

It came a as a surprise to her when Munch answered with the same unflinching honesty he had displayed a moment before. "I'm not sure I know anymore, Liv. After four failed marriages and a modestly impressive number of affairs, I finally think I've learned what type of woman is wrong for me. Trouble is… I'm not sure I trust myself enough to figure out what type would be right."

Hesitating, she asked, "Can I ask you a personal question, John?"

Chuckling, Munch pointed to a clock on the wall. "Better hurry… it's almost twelve. At the stoke of midnight, this spell ends and I go back to being a sarcastic bastard."

Patting his arm, she mused, "You're not a sarcastic bastard… well, you're not a bastard. Sarcasm is how you deal with what we see every day and keep your sanity. We all get that about you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he teased. "Tick tock. Tick tock. Your question?"

"An observation first. I have a mental image of your ex's from listening to you talk about them for seven years and I want to know if I'm close." Tilting her head to judge his reaction, she began. "I see four beautiful women that were trophies rather than partners. They demanded rather than shared. Never got your passion and commitment for the work we do. Didn't share your interests and lacked the intellectual depth you needed to find them desirable out of bed once the initial passion began to fade. They expected you to take care of them… even spoil them, but they weren't willing to do the same for you."

She watched as the muscles in his face tightened and the veil she so hated began to drop over his eyes. "It's not midnight, John. Talk to me. I'm your friend and I love you too. Be honest… how'd I do?"

He was silent for several minutes, long enough for her to doubt he would answer. "Are you sure you never met them, Livvie? You nailed them… and me. What's your question?"

Knowing this might be her only chance to ask and hope to get a serious answer, she gently pressed, "What are you afraid of more… the risk of making another mistake or the possibility of spending the rest of your life alone?"

Sighing, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm 54 and within the next 10 years the Department will begin to push me to retire whether I'm ready or not. I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life after that. Being a cop is all I know. I'm not good at retirement… I tried that after Baltimore."

Taking another sip of his coffee, he mused, "Both sides of my family live well into their nineties… a few to over 100 in good health… except for the ones that develop dementia and depression. That means I have maybe 40 more years to anticipate and I have no clue how to face it. The idea of being alone terrifies me, but the fear of failing again… getting hurt another time keeps me from doing anything to try and change that fact. In short, it's both in equal measures."

Resting his head against the wall behind them as she had done earlier, he sent her an accusatory glare. "What did you put in my coffee? I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Frankly, neither can I," Olivia admitted. "Nothing's in the coffee, so it must be the witching hour working its mojo."

"If you start humming the Doors' greatest hits, I'm out of here," he responded, needing to reestablish his emotional barriers.

"I like the Doors!" she exclaimed, singing, "'_Mister MoJo Rising… got to keep on rising_"."

"So do I, but singing isn't one of your many talents!" he teased, relieved she was letting him escape. "If you keep it up I'll have to go find a janitor and borrow a bucket for you to carry that tune."

"Hey… be nice! You keep up this snarky attitude and I'll add 'sings off key' to the list of things I'll look for in Ms. Right," she threatened, an amused chuckle escaping despite her best efforts.

"I've been duly warned." Finishing his coffee, Munch neatly tossed the empty cup into a wastebasket across from them. "You don't have to stay. Go home. I'll be fine waiting alone. I'll catch a cab back to the station for my car."

Smiling, Olivia shook her head. "Naw… I've waited this long. Might as well stay and keep you company. You're right… it is the least we can do for her."

Folding his arms across his chest, Munch smirked. "You just want to sit here admiring my manly physique displayed to advantage in these hospital duds. I still think you want me."

Another amused chuckle was his only reply.

-----

Neither saw the man listening to their conversation move away down the corridor. He knew he had pressed his luck having remained just around the corner from the waiting area that served the main surgical suite for as long as he had. Pausing near the double-doors that lead to the bank of elevators, he looked back over his shoulder. A hopeful grin transformed his often-times too serious expression, lighting his handsome features from within.

/Owe Munch for this one big time. Liv and I both may need to play the matchmaker… once I let her make her move! Can't wait for her seduce me! Imagine that/ With that thought, Fin Tutuola left for home and another night alone in bed… the tantalizing prospect of an end to that situation making the trip home less depressing than it had been in months.

-----


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Blind, Chapter 3

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Fin/Olivia, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 3

-----

"You two look like hell."

Trading a look with Olivia, Munch dropped his jacket on his desk before leaning against the edge. "Thanks, Cap. Liv and I really treasure that special way you have with a pep talk. Is there coffee?"

"Yeah, Elliot got tired of waiting on you two to show up and made a pot." Watching his two detectives head for the coffee, Cragen demanded, "Where have you two been? It's after 9:30."

"Worried you weren't there to protect me from Livvie's advances last night?" Munch teased, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

Ignoring his quip, Olivia replied, "I picked John up this morning. We were at the hospital until after 2 this morning and were both too tired to come back here for his car, so I gave him a ride home. We decided to stop on our way in this morning to see how our vics are doing."

"We talked to Lucy Hellman. She was fairly alert given the extent of her injuries. She gave us a pretty thorough statement," Munch added, his grin wiped away by the serious nature of his report. "Lucy has a compound fracture to her left leg and a concussion… three broken ribs, and a deep laceration down the right side of her face. She's a mass of bruises from the beating. She was sexually assaulted, but the rapist was stopped before penetration. Her hymen is still intact, but there is external bruising consistent with assault. Rape kit found no fluids, but we didn't expect any after she fell into the creek."

Rubbing his lower back in an attempt to ease the strain caused by carrying the jogger out of the culvert, he continued. "Sam… the jogger, is still unconscious and in guarded condition. She lost a lot of blood from the wound in her left side… has several broken bones in her left hand… looks like it was crushed when one of the perps jumped on it, and a three cracked ribs from being kicked. The knife nicked a kidney, so the doctors are worried about infections. She has a concussion… damage to her eyes. Doctors don't know if they will be able to restore her sight or not… assuming she lives. They still don't know if she's suffered any brain damage. She's need more surgery later this week if she's stable. She'll be in ICU for a while."

"Damn! Those bastards worked them over good," Fin observed. "CSU called earlier. They got a hit on the jogger's prints. Her full name is Samantha Dunbar, 43. She's a lawyer… specializes in environmental law. She works for a watchdog group called ESP… Eco-Sustainability Partnership."

"You got a hit on her prints? Does she have a record?" Olivia asked, handing John a mug of coffee before pouring one for herself.

"Yeah. John, you'll approve. She's been arrested a couple of times on trespass and disorderly conduct charges for taking part in various protests… including that big anti-war rally last month. Know anything about that event, Munchkin?" Fin asked, quickly going back to his report before Cragen could say anything. "I called her office and spoke to her boss. Told them to expect a visit from one of us later today."

"Are they going to notify her family?" Olivia asked, smiling as Fin looked up to meet her gaze.

A small grin quirked his lips in response. Forcing his mind back to his report, he offered, "Only has one brother, Matthew. He's in Iraq with the Air Force, so we'll need to make the contacts. His family… wife and a couple of kids, are at Travis AFB in California. Parents died in a car wreck while she was still in college. Her boss… guy named Michael Vecchio, said she is divorced, no children… has only been in the City for a little over five months… moved up from D.C.. She doesn't socialize much that he knows about. Works a lot… keeps to herself for the most part it seems. That's about it for now."

"I'll send the information to the Air Force and ask them to contact her brother," Cragen replied. "No other family we can contact closer to home?"

"Not that they could tell me. May get more once we go by and talk to her co-workers… her landlord," Fin replied.

"Did you get anything out of the little bastards that did this when you interrogated them last night?" Munch asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"Demanded their phone calls and lawyered up once we got them here. Parents and lawyers were crawling out of the woodwork within an hour. We got nothing out of them. What can you tell us about Lucy Hellman? Does she remember much about the attack?" Elliot asked, taking a seat at his desk.

Flipping open his note pad, Munch began, "Lucy Hellman, aged 16. She attends the Winthrop Academy… has since first grade. Her parents are Isaac and Rebecca Klein Hellman… he's the president of Hellman-Klein-Mallek Investments. Mrs. Hellman is a partner in a large Wall Street law firm, Feldman-James. Both are old money. Two older sons, Mark and Jason, graduated Winthrop and are students at Yale and Princeton respectively."

Olivia picked up from there. "Last night, Lucy had made plans to meet a friend, Sarah Liebman, in the park at 6 to go to a movie. Sarah called to say she was running late, so they changed their meeting place to the theatre itself. Lucy ran into another girl from their school… Jodi Williams, and stopped to talk. They talked long enough that Lucy was running late when they parted. To make up time, she cut through the jogging paths headed toward the 72nd Street entrance."

"She remembers hearing someone running up behind her, but thought it was a jogger. She was grabbled from behind, a piece of Duck tape slapped over her mouth. A second perp threw a cloth sack over her head, effectively blinding her," Munch continued. "She was then pushed down the hill, breaking her leg as she rolled. It's a bit of a blur after that… she recalls being beaten and roughly fondled. The piece of tape on her mouth wasn't secure and came off. That's when she began to scream."

"CSU found tape and scraps of cloth at the scene," Fin noted. "Must have been the gag and blindfold. I'll give them a heads up to check them."

"Good bet," Munch agreed. "At this point, one of her attackers covered her mouth with his hand, but she bit him… continued to scream. They started ripping off her clothes, apparently with the intent of raping her. Two of the perps were kneeling on her arms to pin her down. The bag came off as the one on top of her struggled to shut her up."

"Have the staff of the infirmaries at the Tomes and at Juvie see if one of the perps has a bite mark on his hand. Be nice to back that part of her story up with a documented wound," Cragen inserted.

Seeing Fin add that to his list of follow-up items, Benson reported, "She recognized her attackers as boys from her school… including one she had turned down for a date last spring… a Ben Phelps. He and his buddies have been harassing her all summer and since the fall term began. Looks like the attack may have been revenge for turning him down. John and I suspect there is more to the story than she told us… or perhaps knew. We'll check it out."

"Anyway, once the bag was off, they slapped another piece of tape over her mouth and told her they would have to kill her since she had seen them… after they 'had all enjoyed their turn'. A knife was held to her throat when they made the threat." Sighing, she looked over at her captain. "If Samantha Dunbar hadn't come to her aid, they would have raped her… maybe killed her before the uniforms got there."

Nodding, Cragen asked, "Does she remember what happened from that point on? How did they get from the scene down to the drainage culvert?"

In a tired voice, Munch replied, "Apparently, Ben Phelps planned to go first. He had just ripped off her panties when she heard a struggle nearby. He was knocked off of her and a woman… she didn't know her, fell down beside her. The attackers turned on the woman and started kicking… hitting her."

Taking a deep breath, Olivia finished, "By the time the onlookers arrived to help them, they were both dazed and seriously injured. They only wanted to get out of there before the boys turned on them again. They managed to get to their feet and stumbled down the hill. Lucy collapsed because of her broken leg… they fell and rolled into the creek. Lucy saw the culvert… Sam was likely blind at this point, and they crawled inside. Sam passed out not long after. Lucy said she thought it was her attackers when she first saw John's flashlight, but has no idea how long they were in the culvert. She thought they were following them when they ran. She's still very emotional, so some of the details are sketchy."

"How did she get that broken bottle she was waving at John?" Fin asked, curious about that point.

"Lucy found it in the debris in the culvert. She said she had seen movies where people used broken bottles as a weapon and had grabbed it to protect them," Munch answered. "Resourceful pair… used a broken bottle and a tree branch to defend themselves."

"Resourceful and brave," Stabler agreed. "Did Lucy give you the names of her attackers besides Phelps?"

Nodding, Munch scanned his notes. "Yeah, nine names total… Ben Phelps, Steven Phelps… his younger brother, Doug Williams, Tom and Eric Levine… twin brothers, Austin McKenzie, Charlie van Hutten… Martin Danvers, and Paul Morgenstern. The last two are cousins of the Phelps brothers."

Frowning, Cragen noted, "We collared all of them all last night then except for Danvers. Elliot… Fin, find him and make sure he joins his buddies at Rikers. I spoke with Casey first thing this morning. She expects them to be arraigned today. DA's seeking remand on them all, but they all come from rich, powerful families, so it will be a fight. I'd like to have them all accounted for before then, so get an arrest warrant and pick him up."

"Also, you two follow up on the girl that Lucy talked to just prior to the attack. She shares the last name Williams with one of the perps, so the girl may have been in on the plan. John… Olivia, do the same with the friend, Sarah Liebman. Too many things had to fall into place for Lucy to be on the jogging path where they were waiting for her for it to be coincidence," he noted.

"I'll ask Casey to get us warrants for their homes, phones… any computers or other personal communication devices. John, Olivia get your reports finished and over to Casey ASAP. The rest have already been sent over. One of you needs to get Samantha Dunbar's statement as soon as she can talk," Cragen instructed.

Rising from his seat on the edge of Fin's desk, he concluded, "When you're finished, talk to her co-workers and friends to find out more about her arrest record and any other potential skeletons in her closet. Then, nose around the school… Lucy's classmates and teachers. You know the drill. Make sure there isn't something out there that could bite us on the ass at trial. Hopefully, this one will be wrapped up in short order."

-----

"Want to bet we have to fight past an attorney to pick this one up?" Fin speculated, as he pulled up in front of the Danvers Mansion on Park Avenue. "Our luck he would have to be the grandson of Russell Danvers. Danvers money is legend."

Grimacing, Stabler opened the passenger side door. "Yeah. At least we have an arrest warrant to serve, so not much a lawyer can do to prevent our taking him."

"Believe that when I see it," Fin muttered, joining the other detective at the front door of the mansion. "Never seen money roll over for a warrant."

It took several minutes for the door to be opened. A dignified man in formal waistcoat studied the two detectives before inquiring, "Yes?"

"Detectives Stabler and Tutuola, SVU. We are here to serve an arrest warrant for Martin Danvers. Stand aside," Elliot ordered.

"Mr. Danvers and his parents are not at home. I am not at liberty to allow anyone to enter… Stop this minute!" the butler exclaimed, as the two detectives pushed past him into the house. "You cannot just barge in here."

"See this piece of paper? It gives us the right to enter this house and arrest Martin Danvers. Get in our way and we'll take you in for obstruction. Are we clear?" Fin interjected. "Now where is Danvers?"

Stunned, the man stared blankly at the warrant for a few seconds before offering, "I can't say… I don't know. They left last night and didn't…"

"They left last night? When?" Stabler demanded.

"Mr. and Mrs. Danvers and Mr. Martin left for the heliport around eleven. They didn't tell any of us where they were going, only that they would be gone for some time," the man replied. "That is all I know."

Pulling out his cell phone, Elliot called Casey Novak. "Casey… Elliot. Danvers is running. He and his parents left for the heliport late last night. Do we have a search warrant so CSU can get in here? I doubt they left anything behind, but there may be blood evidence if he was in the brawl."

"Yeah, Fin and I are headed for the heliport to see if we can find their trail once we get the house secured. My guess is the Danvers left the state… maybe the country, to avoid arrest. How long on the warrant?"

"We'll keep you posted. Thanks."

Fin looked over at the butler. "What's your name and position in the house?"

"Derrick Thompson. I'm head butler for the Danvers."

Jotting the information down in his notepad, Fin asked, "OK, Derrick… did Martin Danvers look like he had been in a fight when you saw him last night? Bruises… cuts…?"

Reluctantly, the man nodded. "His father was supporting him around the waist when they left. His face and hands were bruised and swollen from what I could see. A tooth was missing from the front of his mouth… there was blood soaking the side of his shirt."

"He was bleeding?" Fin demanded.

"I don't know if he was bleeding or the blood was a stain… only that I saw blood," Thompson carefully replied.

"He was missing a tooth?"

"Yes… one of his front teeth."

After adding this information to his notes, Fin looked up. "When did Martin Danvers come home last night?"

"I had retired for the night and did not see him return. I got off duty around 8. I was in my rooms when Mr. Danvers buzzed for me to attend him. That was just before they left… approximately 10:45," the butler concluded.

"Which airport do the Danvers use to hanger their jet? I know they've got one, right?" the detective pressed.

"They keep their personal jet at the Islip Airport on Long Island," was the reply.

"Is Mr. Danvers a pilot?" Elliot inquired.

"Yes, but the Danvers have a pilot on staff to fly the jet. Mr. Danvers usually only flies a small Piper… his hobby plane as it were," Thompson supplied.

"They didn't say anything to you? Gave you no instructions? They didn't ask you to call anyone… send them anything later?" Elliot pressed.

Reluctantly Thompson admitted, "Mr. Danvers' personal secretary was with them, so he may have made additional arrangements with her."

Stabler questioned, "What's the secretary's name?"

"Karen Tillman."

"Has Martin Danvers' room been cleaned today?"

Frowning, the butler nodded, "Of course. His suite is cleaned every morning along with the other personal rooms of the family."

"Your staff find a tooth when they cleaned his rooms? Bloody clothes?" Fin pressed.

"There was blood on the bedding and a number of towels, but no one mentioned finding a tooth. If it was in one of the wastebasket or hampers, they may not have noticed it. The trash is the rollcarts out back and any clothing… bedding is in the laundry room." Hesitating, Thompson asked, "May I ask what Mr. Martin is suspected of doing?"

"We aren't at liberty to say, but we did identify ourselves as detectives with SVU. That should give you a clue," Stabler offered, wanting to see if the man knew more. "Do you know if Martin Danvers has been in trouble before this?"

"He's never been arrested."

"That's not what my partner asked, now is it?" Fin observed. "Has Martin Danvers been in trouble before this? Something that might not have been reported or where he didn't end up in jail?"

"I'm not privy to such information, detectives. The Danvers are hardly in the habit of confiding in the help," he hedged.

"My experience is the 'help' knows a much about what is happening in a house like this as the family… maybe more. You're telling us you and your staff walk around with blinders and earplugs?" Stabler asked, his irritation clear. "I find that hard to believe."

"The Danvers are a very private family. We know better than to listen at keyholes, Detective," Thompson insisted.

"You might want to rethink your attitude here, Derrick. We are investigating some serious shit that went down last night. Martin Danvers is now a fugitive with a felony warrant on his head. We can continue this little talk here or down at our house," Fin proposed. "Your choice."

"The Danvers require all of the staff to sign confidentiality agreements when we accept employment with them," Thompson insisted. "I cannot…."

"Fine… our house it is."

-----


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Blind, Chapter 4

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: John/OFC, Fin/Olivia, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 4

-----

Seeing the door to the private office open, Munch and Benson rose as an elegant middle-aged woman emerged. "Good morning. I am Virginia Adams, Headmistress here at Winthrop. I heard about what happened in the park last night before school this morning. Your arrival confirms the rumor that it was one of our students, Lucy Hellman, that was attacked. Our students and staff are distraught… terrified as you might expect."

Shaking the extended hand, Olivia began. "Thank you for seeing us, Dr. Adams. I'm Det. Benson and my partner is Det. Munch. We need to talk with you about several of your students."

"Of course," she replied, ushering them into her office. "I will tell you what I can. You must realize that the confidential nature of some of our records must be respected. Unless you have a warrant, I can't discuss their individual files."

"And you must understand Dr. Adams that we are investigating a case involving aggravated assault and battery, attempted rape, and attempted murder. We can and will get warrants to go through your records with a fine tooth comb is you want to make this difficult," Olivia stressed.

"You misunderstand me, Det. Benson. I have no desire or intent to hinder your investigation. What happened in the park last night sickens me, but I am still bound to respect confidential records unless **compelled **by a warrant," she replied, her slight but unmistakable emphasis on the word 'compelled' clear to both detectives. "I will fully comply with such an order… open any file it covers and answer your questions to the best of my ability, but until then…"

Reaching into his pocket, Munch pulled out his cell phone. Rising to his feet, he moved toward the door, "Then, please excuse me for a moment while I call the DA working with us on this case and ask her to get us that warrant. Perhaps, we can talk in more general terms until it arrives."

"Of course, Det. Munch."

Stepping into the hallway beyond the headmistress's suite of offices, Munch dialed SUV's primary contact in the DA's office. "Casey… John. Can you secure us a warrant to get the school records for our nine suspects? Be nice if we could also get a peak at the records of the three girls."

"We're at the school now. Dr. Adams, the Headmistress, has promised us she will answer any question we might have if she is compelled by a warrant."

"Yeah, I read that the same way. How long before you can get a runner to bring it to us?"

"Great. We'll continue to chat with Dr. Adams until you join us. Thanks Casey."

-----

"The Danvers' helicopter left for Islip at 11:29 a.m. this morning, Detective," the clerk, Toni Evans, relied, looking up from the computer terminal. Both men had noticed the interested gleam in her eyes as she smiled up at Fin.

Leaning against the counter, Fin held her gaze. "Was the flight planned?"

Shaking her head, the young woman replied, "No record of a flight plan being filed until minutes before they departed."

A slight smile rewarded her willingness to help. "Is there a record of who was on the helicopter when it took off?"

Sending him an openly flirtatious smile, she hit the print command. Handing Fin the printout, she named, "Jack Danvers, Marianna Danvers, Martin Danvers, Karen Tillman, and Peter Lawrence."

"Has the pilot returned or is he still at Islip?" Stabler inquired, amused by the girl's flirting.

"Yeah, I ran into him when I got to work this morning… a little before 8. He got back here at 7:12 this morning according to the records."

Nodding, Fin asked, "Was he going home?"

"That's what he said. He looked exhausted and I would have expected him to be complaining about Mr. Danvers being a spoiled, rich bastard that doesn't give a damn about disrupting his employees' private lives." Grinning Toni added, "But, Art said the bonus Danvers paid him made the loss of sleep a pleasure… wanted to take me to dinner tonight to celebrate. Right… like that's going to happen!"

"Art?"

"Art Jenkins," she supplied. "You need his contact info?"

"You read my mind, beautiful! Thanks," Fin replied, a devilish grin lighting his handsome features.

Accepting the printout, Elliot and Fin thanked her again as they started to move away. Halting, Fin turned back to the counter. "Toni, is there anyway you can tell us if the Danvers' private jet left Islip last night or this morning?"

Entering the query into her computer, the clerk shook her head. "Nothing was filed with the FAA to indicate they left on the jet, but Islip wasn't Art's final stop."

"What?"

"Art took them to the North Shore University Hospital in Glen Cove." Looking up, she added, "He didn't stay at Islip but five minutes… maybe long enough to top off his fuel and then took off for NAUH at 12:49 a.m. They picked up another passenger… Dr. Walter Silverman at Islip."

Tapping the counter, Fin grinned. "Thanks! Can you print that record out for me?"

Glancing over at Stabler, he pulled out his cell phone. "Cap… we may have caught a break. Can you get someone from Glen Cove to pay a call to the North Shore University Hospital… hopefully serve our arrest warrant? The Danvers took a helicopter out there in the middle of the night. Seems they met a doctor at Islip… then diverted to the hospital."

"Yeah… sonny boy may have been tagged badly enough to need to be admitted. Have to wonder what they thought they would accomplish by going to a hospital on Long Island?"

-----

Ending the call, Munch returned to the office. Taking his seat, he offered, "ADA Casey Novak is on her way to obtain a warrant and will bring it by personally. Until she arrives, what can you tell us about the relationships between our nine suspects and Ms. Hellman that is not privileged?"

"You must first understand, detectives, that our entire enrollment is only 600… fifty students per class. Over 90 of our students have attended Winthrop since the first grade. Their families move in the same social circles and doubtless, most of our students have known each other since birth," she began. "Lucy knows all the boys involved, but she is a junior. All but two of the boys involved are seniors."

"Which two aren't in the senior class?"

Pausing to check her notes, she asked, "Can you give me the list of their names, Detective? I am fairly sure I know who they are from my review of the daily attendance rosters, but… given the serious nature of the offenses involved, I would like to be sure before I answer."

"This is most distressing, but I did have the names right," the headmistress noted, studying the list Olivia handed her. "Steven Phelps and Paul Morgenstern are juniors. They both have a number of classes with Lucy. Steven is only 13. He has been advanced two grades over the course of his time here. Quite a brilliant young man. As I said, the others are all in our senior class."

"Steven Phelps is only 13? I don't recall seeing one of our suspects that looked that young. How did he manage to get into a gang of 16, 17 year old boys?" Olivia asked.

"I can't say. Steven is rather tall for his age… growth spurt this summer, so he appears to be older than he is. He is a loner… very few friends. There is always a danger in advancing a child ahead of his peers. He looses his place among those his age, but is too young to be accepted by those in the upper classes." Sighing, she added, "Steven has always been a difficult child."

"What can you tell us about Lucy?" Munch inquired, making a note to return to Steven Phelps after they had seen his file.

"Lucy is a bright, out-going young lady. She is very popular and has a wide circle of friends. Sarah Liebman is her best friend; they have been as close as sisters since kindergarten." Sighing, Adams added, "Poor Sarah was so upset by the attack that her parents let her stay home from school today. Sarah has had a crush on Martin Danvers since she was little, so she must be doubly crushed by what happened."

Trading a look with Munch, Olivia pressed, "Sarah Liebman has a crush on Martin Danvers? Have they been involved?"

Shaking her head, the older woman clarified, "No, though not because Sarah didn't try. Martin Danvers inherited the Danvers' good-looks… and arrogance. He has his pick of girls, both here and around town. Sarah… she's sweet, but not one to turn heads."

"How about Lucy… is she a head-turner?" Munch asked.

"Oh yes. She has developed into a lovely young woman. She will likely be the great beauty of her generation… like her mother was twenty years ago." Frowning, Dr. Adams studied the detectives. "I had assumed you had seen Lucy after the attack. You could not have failed to notice her looks."

"Det. Munch was the one that found Lucy and the jogger that came to her aid," Olivia replied, careful not to say too much. "Lucy was… hurt badly during the attack."

"Dear God! I guess I haven't come to terms with the full import of what happened yet." Pausing for a moment, she asked, "Is it that bad?"

"Lucy will recover, but her injures are serious. The doctors are still guarded in their prognosis for the lady that saved her from being raped." Holding the administrator's gaze, Munch added, "If she lives, chances are she will have partial to complete vision loss from her injures. We owe it to both women to try and fit the pieces of the puzzle together so that their attackers are held accountable for what they did to them."

Ms. Adams paled visibly as she listened to his answer. Nodding, she acknowledged that responsibility. "I meant what I said, Detective Munch. I will tell you all I can."

"What can you tell us about Ben Phelps?" he asked.

"Ben's grades are adequate, but never pushed himself to excel. He could be an honor student if he applied himself. He is… difficult to handle, moody and short-tempered." Sighing, she added, "Ben has been in and out of trouble here and elsewhere since he was a boy. His file will interest you, but I can't say more at this moment. Steven is just as difficult to handle as his older brother, perhaps more so. For one so young, Steven can be quite… cold-blooded and calculating, while Ben is impulsive… easily provoked."

"What about the other boys involved?" Olivia queried, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach hearing the headmistress's observations. "Tom and Eric Levine…"

Sighing, she offered, "The Levine boys follow Ben's lead… Eric is his best friend. Away from his influence, they don't usually cause any serious trouble, but they are as difficult to handle as he is when they are together. Their parents considered sending them a boarding school out of the City their freshman year, but Mrs. Levine was diagnosed with breast cancer that summer and didn't want them away from her. She died last year and Mr. Levine has been distracted as you might expect. Frankly, they have been running wild from what I have been told."

"Austin McKenzie, Charlie van Hutten…?"

"Their involvement in this is shocking. Both are fine students and have no history of misconduct." Shaking her head, the headmistress suggested, "I can only guess that they went along with the rest to try and be accepted by the other boys."

"Martin Danvers and Paul Morgenstern?"

"They are cousins of the Phelps boys," she began. "Paul has had a crush on Lucy for some time now, so it amazes me he took part in this. It always appeared to me that she took care not to lead him on… that she was respectful of his feelings. Lucy is not promiscuous or a tease. She is a very sweet, but serious-natured young woman. She went on a couple of dates with Martin. The rumors I heard indicated she found his behavior incompatible with her own and quickly broke of the relationship."

"When was that?" Munch pressed. "We have already been told that Ben Phelps asked her out and was turned down."

"Yes… he has been a problem for us over that issue," she hedged. "I believe Lucy went out with Martin over the winter break last year. She wasn't dating him when they returned to school for spring term. Ben then made his play for her attention. Given his reputation, Lucy turned him down. There has been a lot of hostility directed toward Lucy and her friends since. Ben and Martin spend a lot of time in my office, detectives, but I never imagined it would escalate to this! I did try to warn their parents, but… My warning fell on deaf ears it seems."

"Are Ben and Martin close friends?"

"Not really. They are rivals for wont of a better term." Sighing, she took a moment to organize her thoughts. "Both are handsome, smart, charming if it suits them, and spoiled. They compete against each over everything. Their mothers are the only children of Saul Rosenthal. He had no sons, so he has been grooming his three grandsons to take over his empire since they were born. He actively encourages Ben and Martin's competitiveness and their parents have done nothing to curb their wilder impulses. Lucy was the latest prize they were fighting over."

Frowning, Olivia asked, "And she had no intention of being a notch on one of their headboards?"

"Well put, Det. Benson. Lucy has plans for her life that include college and a career before she marries. She wants to become a doctor. Last spring, she organized a group of female students to take virginity pledges until they turned 21." Pulling out a file, she handed them a copy of a blank pledge. "She came to me before she began, to get my permission and to explain her reasons… not that I didn't support her idea immediately."

"A virginity pledge?" Munch asked, taking the proffered sheet.

"Lucy feels that the media routinely portrays the young women of rich families as self-indulgent and promiscuous… Paris Hilton and the like. She didn't want to see herself or her friends fall into that lifestyle." Smiling, the headmistress added, "She wasn't advocating chastity until marriage. She felt waiting until they were at least out of high school was a rational decision… that it would give them time to mature and make better decisions. Lucy hoped banding together would give them a support network to withstand the pressure teenage boys place on girls to have sex with them. She managed to get several dozen girls to sign pledges. Needless to say, this made her a target of the boys that didn't want to be told no by those girls."

Trading a look with Olivia, Munch asked, "Would that group have included the ones involved in last night's assault of Lucy Hellman?"

"Yes, though it still surprises me to know Austin, Charlie, and Paul were part of this," she confirmed. "As I think of it, the older pair had been dating girls that took the pledge, so that might explain their involvement."

"If I can retrace our steps briefly," Munch interjected, "I'd like to know if Steven Phelps is part to the competition between his brother and cousin?"

"That is a difficult question to answer, Detective. His academic success is something his parents and Mr. Rosenthal take great pride in discussing. No doubt Steven enjoys their favor for it. The older boys are indifferent rather than poor students, so it was an advantage he held over them." Sighing, she admitted, "Still, Steven is four years younger than the other two. They tend to either torment or ignore him by turns as older boys often do younger siblings. I cannot imagine how he managed to be a part of their… gang. It doesn't fit their patterns."

Glancing over at Olivia, Munch observed, "I can't help but notice you didn't say it surprised you he took part in the attack, only that it surprised you the older boys let him join them."

Holding his gaze for a moment, the woman nodded. "As I said earlier, Detective, Steven is a difficult child."

"What can you tell us about Doug Williams?" Olivia questioned, realizing the administrator would not comment further on Steven Phelps without the warrant.

"Not much. He and his younger sister Jodi are new to Winthrop. Their family had been living in Europe… Zurich, until last year. Douglas Williams, Sr. is a banker and transferred here to assume the presidency of his firm's North American operations. Doug and Jodi began here in the spring term," she reported. "He hasn't had cause to visit my office as yet."

"And Jodi?" Munch pressed.

Surprised, Ms. Adams held Munch's gaze for a moment before offering, "Jodi is another matter. She has an impressive file for someone so new to our halls. Are you asking because she is dating Eric Levine?"

Another meaningful look was passed between the detectives. "We're simply looking at this from all angles, Ms. Adams," Munch replied. "Is she a junior?"

"Yes."

Olivia picked up the questioning. "Does she get along with Lucy or are you aware of problems between them?"

Frowning, the school administrator speculated, "I suspect Jodi has always been the prettiest girl in her school and social circle before moving here. She is quite lovely. I've felt from the beginning she resented the fact that Lucy outshines her in every way… intelligence, popularity, social connections, and looks. She has been… less than subtle in her dislike of Lucy, but Lucy has tried to rise above it… well, as much as a 16 year old girl can. An argument with Jodi in gym was the only time I have ever had to call Lucy to the office in her entire time here at Winthrop. Her parents were not impressed with her loss of control. She publicly apologized to Jodi, but Jodi failed to reciprocate."

The intercom on desk buzzed. "I am sorry to interrupt you, Mrs. Adams, but Assistant District Attorney Casey Novak is here. She says you are expecting her."

"Thank you, Denise. Please send her in."

-----

Flipping his cell phone shut, Fin moved around a slower vehicle on the LIE before offering, "Glen Cove has an officer at the hospital. Martin Danvers is in ICU… nearly bled out from a knife wound. He's in a coma… touch and go on if he makes it."

Nodding, Elliot added, "Hope he has enough blood left to give us a sample. I'd hate to have to wait to add his DNA sample to that of his buddies. I'm already sick of these people and want to wrap this case up tight, so we can move on."

-----


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Blind, Chapter 5

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

A/N --- I'd realy love hearing what you think of this story. Feedback welcome. I'll stop begging now. On to the story...

Blind, Chapter 5

-----

A muffled moan from the bed drew his attention. Setting aside the back issue of _Time_ he had been reading aloud, Munch rose stiffly and walked over to the bed. Samantha Dunbar shifted fitfully as she struggled to free herself from the haze fogging her senses. Seeing obvious signs of pain, Munch walked to the door of her room and signaled the nurse at the station across from him.

"Nurse, I think Ms. Dunbar is starting to wake." Stepping aside as she moved past him to check her patient, he added. "Looks like she's in a good bit of pain."

"You're right, Det. Munch," the nurse agreed. "Dr. Matsoukis is still in the hospital. I'll page him now. He needs to see her before we give her any more medications. He's indicated he wants to change her meds if she wakes up today."

Hovering near the door, he asked, "Is that a good thing?"

Smiling slightly, the nurse nodded. "Hopefully, it indicates she hasn't suffered serious brain damage. I need to ask you to move to the waiting room down the hall while the doctor checks her. I'll let you know when he's finished if you want to come back and sit with her a while longer. It's a shame she doesn't have any family or friends in the City to be with her, especially after she got hurt helping that girl. Doesn't seem right."

"Thank you. I will," he agreed, silently indorsing her comments. "I'm going down to the cafeteria for a quick bite while the doctor is here. I'll be back."

-----

Picking a table as far from the few other patrons as possible, Munch opened the tea bag he had purchased with his tuna sandwich and dropped it into the hot water he had coaxed from the nearly empty dispenser. After dunking it a few times, he left it to steep while he ate his uninspiring meal. He had missed his lunch and the sandwich disappeared in short order. A slightly stale brownie quickly followed.

Still hungry, he sat back to drink his tea while he pondered going back for a second… something. The tea soothed him and John let himself relax for the first time in many hours. Their new case was the kind that put the entire squad on edge… rich, powerful people that were used to having their way regardless of the cost to others, a high public profile, and more lawyers than they normally saw in a month lurking at every stop and peering over their shoulders.

Casey Novak's arrival at the Winthrop Academy had opened the proverbial floodgates and lawyers had dogged their steps the rest of the day. The search warrant she had acquired to open the school records of their perps had been immediately suppressed by temporary restraining order barring the access. The first TRO was soon followed by four more. Their ADA had, armed with the information they had acquired from their talk with Ms. Adams, left to argue to have them lifted before the judges that issued them, one of which was a Federal jurist.

At a temporary dead-end at the school, he and Olivia had then wasted the next couple of hours trying to track down Sarah Liebman, only to find out she had gone to 'visit' her grandmother in France. According to her mother's social secretary, "poor Sarah was overcome with grief from what had happened to her dear friend, Lucy" and the family had thought it best for her to have some time away to recover. Her parents had refused their request to talk with them.

Casey had been less than pleased when Liv had called to ask about the possibility of acquiring a material witness warrant to compel her return. The fact that their call had come not five minutes after the ADA had received a similar call from Elliot and Fin regarding Jodi Williams had not helped her mood. The second girl it seemed had decided to return to her old school in Switzerland to "avoid having her reputation tarnished by the scandal". From the few students at Winthrop they had found willing to talk to them, that decision had come six months too late as the girl had already acquired quite a rep during her brief enrollment.

A visit to Samantha Dunbar's place of employment had provided little in the way of useful information. She had moved to the City less than five months earlier and had formed only casual friendships with her co-workers. None of them knew much about her family or the names of friends that might be worried about the woman. Samantha Dunbar was well liked, respected, but still a bit of a mystery to those that spent their days with her.

Sipping his tea, John let his mind drift back though the events of the day, organizing and analyzing the information they had gathered. It had not come as surprise to him how quickly the doors had begun to shut in their faces or the speed with which potential witnesses… potential accomplices had melted away. Munch had been a cop too long not to know the power of money. He had seen the scales of justice tip in favor of a guilty person when enough money was thrown around to tilt the balance too many times in his career to find it anything other than completely predictable.

Munch knew he had irritated the other members of his squad by his cynical attitude. What they failed to appreciate was that accepting this reality did not mean he was giving up. He simply had come to the realization that more innovative thinking would be required to fill in the blank pages in their reports. It was time to review the details and find the cracks that would blow a hole in the wall money was building around their perps.

Several key points were clear as far as he was concerned. Sarah and Jodi had taken part in orchestrating the attack. Any doubts he might have had as to whether they knowingly took part in the attack had evaporated when they learned both girls had fled the country. Lacking any information to the contrary, it was logical to assume Sarah had let her obsession with Martin Danvers lead her to that faithful decision. The Liebman girl had betrayed her friend and left her to the brutality of the gang.

Cragen had detailed a couple of uniforms to canvas the employees of the theatre where the girls had planned to meet the night before. The other officers had also talked to the street vendors working in the area. No one remembered seeing the girl waiting for her friend. That had been the final confirmation of her guilt in his mind.

Jodi's role in the attack and her motivation for participating didn't require much speculation. Clearly, the girl had been jealous of Lucy Hellman. Her relationship with one of the suspects was another link that tied her to the attack. Add in her contentious relationship with the victim and her role in the crime seemed fairly obvious. She had delayed Lucy long enough to cause the other girl's to take the less traveled jogging trails to meet Sarah for the movie.

The identities of the attackers were clear as well. Lucy had shown no hesitation in naming the boys. All but Martin Danvers had been arrested at the scene or in the ER where they had been taken to receive treatment for their injuries. Their parents and attorneys were facing an uphill fight to get them off, but Munch had seen stronger cases than this one destroyed by a combination of power, money, and brilliant attorneys. Their perps had all three.

The arraignment judge had not been swayed, however, and they had all been remanded without bail… all to Rikers, except for Steven Phelps. He was in Juvenile Detention for now. The DA had yet to decide if he would prosecute his as an adult. That decision was likely to be predicated on what they found as they wrapped up their investigation. The rest were facing charges as adults even though none had reached their eighteenth birthday. Arthur Branch did not want to look like he was going soft on the sons of rich families… an election was looming after all.

Having organized the perps in his mind, John next sought to analyze their weaknesses… any potential avenues for getting the lot of them before a judge and a conviction from a jury. Given the number of witnesses they had, he hoped it would not be necessary to cut any deals that gave any of the perps a break, much less a walk, but he knew money had a way of making memories become fuzzy on details… details like the who, what, and how. His cynicism again, but he preferred to be mentally prepared for any eventuality.

Still, he didn't think it would come to that. The papers had picked up the story and made the most of the heroes that came to the victim's aid, Samantha Dunbar's role receiving special praise. So far they had managed to keep her name out of the press and protect her identity until she regained consciousness. They needed to talk to Sam to verify her story. Once they had it, the defense was going to have an uphill battle to convince a jury the nine defendants and their little helpers weren't guilty. An injured hero made for a great prosecution witness.

Satisfied they had a handle on most of the issues needed to wrap up the case against the nine, Munch let his thought turn to the issue of how to get the two girls back to stand trial. He knew requests for their extradition would never be issued unless they could nail down their case against them beyond any reasonable doubt. Jodi's involvement might play out one of two ways.

Giving her a pass was one possible way of gaining leverage over her brother. It was possible they would need to do so in order to secure her brother's testimony. This presupposed they both needed his testimony and that he was interested in protecting his sister. Since she was in Switzerland, safe from arrest for the moment, there was no incentive for their family to bargain for a reduced sentence for her. She was free; her brother was the one in Rikers.

It was, therefore, more likely they would need to use the lure of a reduced sentence for her brother to get Jodi back into the country. The cynic in him sneered at the likelihood of the girl agreeing to return willingly, regardless of the affect that decision had on Doug Williams. Still, they may get the brother to roll on her with the prize of a reduced sentence and then he, John Munch, would be willing to make the supreme sacrifice… volunteer to go to Europe to escort her back.

That thought brought a smile to John's face. /Right. Like Liv wouldn't get that assignment. Don never turns her down, so no point in indulging much time on that fantasy./

Finishing his tea, Munch rose and slowly made his way toward the elevators, paying for an apple on his way out. He planned to sit with Sam for another hour or two… maybe even talk to her if the nurse thought it might help. If she was an environmentalist, he felt comfortable he could find something interesting to read to her from the papers he had seen scattered around the waiting room.

Resting against the wall of the elevator as it carried him to her floor, he took a big bit of the apple. A nagging feeling jabbed at his subconscious telling him he was missing something important… something vital to the case. Long years of experience had taught him the harder he tried to bring those feelings into focus, the longer it took. They came to him when his mind was resting and not distracted by too many conflicting thoughts. It was an irritation he had learned to accept because those feelings were usually rock solid.

Exiting the elevator, he turned right and walked into the ICU. Pausing at the nurse's station outside of her room, he glanced inside to see if they were finished. Noting the room was empty save for the patient in the bed, he hesitated at the door.

"Det. Munch… I'm afraid she hasn't woken up yet. The doctor just left, but he thinks she will within the next few hours."

Turning, John smiled in greeting to the nurse that had befriended him earlier. "How's she doing otherwise?"

"The doctor is a lot more optimistic about her chances now than he was when I came on duty," she reported. "Her responses and vitals are strong. He says her sight is the biggest question still out there. He's upgraded her condition to stable and thinks she will otherwise recover."

Nodding, John commented, "Best news I've had today. Is it still alright for me to sit with her for a while? It bothers me to see her alone like this."

Beaming at him, she urged him to return to the chair he had occupied earlier. "My name's Susie. Let me know if you notice any indications she is waking up. Talk to her if you feel like it. She needs to reconnect to the world."

"OK. I'll grab some newspapers from down the hall and read to her. I'm sure I can find something to interest her that isn't too upsetting," he proposed.

-----

John put aside the paper he had been reading to his silent companion and let himself study her features. In truth, there was little of her face visible given the wrappings covering her eyes and much of her head. He had seen her picture in the file Fin had acquired from her arrest during the anti-war rally earlier in the summer. She was pretty, but not the sort of woman to command a room with her looks… until you noticed her eyes. A sultry blue-grey gaze had stared up at him, the poor quality of the mug shot still managing to capture the lively mind studying the world from behind their smoky deeps.

He had been amused by the defiant smirk that had lit her face as she faced the camera. It was rare to see someone smile for a mug shot. He had seen only one other in all his time on the force… his own, the relic of his teenage years as a protester against the Vietnam War.

His former commander in Baltimore, Al 'Gee' Giardello, had found a copy… through a 'friend of a friend of a friend' chain of custody that only Gee could have fashioned and his larger-than-life commander had made his life hell for years by periodically posting it in inopportune places. Well, he knew without doubt Gee had posted it the first time, but he also had no doubt others were responsible for the rest. /I don't know which picture gave me the most grief… that mug shot or that damn photograph of Brigitta's? At least I was smiling in both. No, at least I had my clothes on for the mug shot!/

Refocusing on the woman laying in the bed, he noted that she had begun to shift restlessly again now that he had fallen silent. Hoping that she had heard him, he debated what to say next. An introduction seemed to be the simplest and most direst course of action.

"I guess I should reintroduce myself since it's been a while since I told you who I am," John began. "My name is John Munch. I'm a cop… a detective in the Special Victims Unit working this case. I found you and Lucy last night in the culvert. You have us worried, Sam… I hope you don't mind me calling you Sam. Anyway, you have us worried. I decided to keep you company until you wake up."

"You did great by the way. You saved Lucy from begin raped. Her family has been checking in on you all day. They want to thank you," he added. "She's doing much better and will be able to go home in a few days. She wants to come see you once you are awake. You have a friend for life I think."

"Anyway, I'm looking forward to talking to you when you wake up," he continued. "I was just thinking. We have something in common. We were both at the anti-war protest last month. I confess that I hung around in the middle of the pack, all too aware that it wouldn't be a good thing for my continued employment to be out in front. My captain is pretty understanding and let's me express myself pretty freely, but even Don would have a hard time explaining his detective being arrested sitting down in front of the President's motorcade with a sign 'It's about the Oil!', but I was with you in spirit."

"I saw your mug shot, by the way. You were smiling. That's almost a first for me. I'll confess it reminded me of one of me from 1970… I was 18. I can't believe how young I looked… all that hair! I live in dread of my squad here finding a copy. My former commander down in Baltimore got his hands on one and made my life hell with it!" he added.

Sighing, John mused, "He was a good man… my commander I mean. I miss him. He died a few years ago. Gee had faith in me even when I doubted myself. Never understood how, but he did. A lot of what I know about being a cop, I learned from him."

"John?"

Munch glanced over at the bed, surprised to hear his name. Moving to her side, he gently took her hand. "Sam?"

"Where…?"

He had to bend down close to her lips to hear her question. "You're in the hospital… Mount Sinai's ICU. The doctor was just here and he was pleased with your progress. Let me get the nurse…"

"No… don't leave me! Hurts!"

"It's OK; I'm not leaving. The nurse will give you something for the pain. Hold on."

Moving to the door, he signaled the nurse. "Susie, she's awake."

Going back to the bed, he heard her murmuring his name. "I'm here Sam. The nurse is coming and she will take care of the pain."

"What… Lucy?"

Understanding she wanted to know about the girl, he quickly offered, "Lucy is upstairs in a room surrounded by her parents and brothers. She is safe…you saved her! She can't wait to visit you."

She was silent as the nurse checked her vitals signs. After taking several sips of water, Sam murmured in response to Susie's questions about how she was feeling with, "Can't see."

Trading a look with John, the nurse soothed, "You have an injury that the doctor felt needed to be bandaged for now. No need to worry at this point. You are in the hands of the best doctors in the city."

"Can't… hear very well?"

"You have bandages around your head, Sam. Now relax," the nurse coaxed.

"John… truth?"

Sighing, John wondered why she seemed to trust his word more than the nurse's. "Susie is right; you have bandages around your head because of the injuries you suffered. You will need treatments and maybe surgery, but it's too soon to know, Sam. The doctors are very hopeful, OK?"

He felt the tremors shivering through her body as the import of his words sank into her dazed mind. It was several minutes before she whispered, "Have to be… for now."

"Hang in there, Sam. You're not alone," he promised.

A soft, "Yes, I am," tore at his heart.

"No, you aren't." Squeezing her hand, he offered, "If you're interested in one slightly over the hill cop as a friend, then you have me. I know there must be others."

"You were there… last night."

"Yeah, I was. You were so brave," he soothed, needing to encourage her. "We were all so impressed and proud of you. You saved Lucy's life!"

"Lucy is… OK?"

"Yeah, she's fine. You're both safe."

"You were there… pipe… ambulance…"

"Yes… I was."

A soft "thanks… friend" slipped from her lips as sleep claimed her.

-----


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Blind, Chapter 6

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 6

-----

"Do we have a handle yet on who stabbed Martin Danvers?"

As John had expected, the nagging feeling that had plagued him the night before had chosen to clarify itself as he had dozed in bed that morning, still half-asleep and utterly relaxed. His gut told him that the attack on Danvers was significant, perhaps a second and independent act… a crime of opportunity. Their conversation with the headmistress the day before had left him to wonder if one of the Phelps brothers had decided to get rid of their rival.

Cragen studied his detective for a moment before commenting, "Interesting that you should ask that, John. CSU just informed me that they didn't find any trace of Danvers blood on either of the two knives recovered from the scene. His blood wasn't on any of the bystanders' clothing either. Guess where they did find it?"

"Steven Phelps' clothes."

Shaking his head in mild surprise, the 16th's commander asked, "Now how the hell did you know that?"

"Eighteen years with the Murder Police did teach me a few things!" John smirked, pleased to have been right. "Baltimore may not be the Big Bad Apple, but we still got the job done."

"Noted" Cragen agreed, amused by his detective's off-beat sense of humor. "So… how'd you know?"

"None of the onlookers were armed, so it's unlikely one of them knifed him. That means it had to have been one of the perps." Leaning back in his chair, his fingers laced above his head, Munch continued. "From O'Malley's description of the brawl, the fight spread out well beyond the spot where Lucy was assaulted… the onlookers had to tackle and restrain some of the boys that tried to flee. That spread makes it doubtful a perp accidentally knifed Danvers since they weren't in a cluster, so it had to be intentional. With their history, the Phelps boys are logical contenders."

"There has to be more…"

Still smirking, John offered, "Something Virginia Adams said yesterday about the competition between Rosenthal's grandsons has been nagging at me. She described Ben as hot-tempered and impulsive, but she said Steven was cold-blooded and calculating."

"Yeah, but that still doesn't single him out. Ben has the same motive, a long history with Danvers, and he was the ringleader if the attack on Lucy. My money would have been on him. Why did you pick Steven?" Olivia asked, intrigued.

"When Don said CSU hadn't found Danvers' blood on one of the knives they found at the scene, I figured it had to be the Steven. It takes a pretty cold-blooded person to knife his cousin in the midst of a brawl and find a way to get rid of the knife on the fly," Munch speculated. "Deliberately knifing him at all had to be premeditated or at least a calculated act on the doer's part."

"From what we've found so far, Ben is impulsive… given to striking out in a rage rather than coldly trying to kill. They were spread out, so it doesn't appear to have been an accidental or a spur-of-the-moment attack. Ben doesn't sound like the type to have been focused enough to seek out his cousin in the middle of the chaos going on around them and then quickly ditch the knife after stabbing his cousin only once," he mused. "Steven is only 13 and Danvers would have had an easier time fending off a second blow from him than he would Ben who's the same size and relative strength."

"I can see you reasoning," Fin agreed, "But, isn't the competition between Ben and Martin? I thought they ignored little Stevie most of the time. Do we have any proof he's entered the race for granddaddy's fortune?"

"None yet, but Stevie as the doer fits the facts. Like I said, Ben is the type to attack someone in a rage, not in cold-blood, so multiple blows. One of the bystanders would have noticed that. Stabbing someone and not being seen in a crowd requires a subtly and control Ben isn't known for," Munch added.

"Under the circumstances, I don't see why Ben would have been focused on Martin at all. Their plan was falling apart around them and he had to be thinking about getting the hell out of there… killing the ones in his way maybe, but Martin? Finally," John concluded, "Sam clocked Ben pretty hard when she knocked him off Lucy. He had to have been at least a little dazed… not thinking clearly enough to deliberately go after Danvers. That leaves Steven as the most likely."

"I buy that. The two perps that went to the ER were the other two she hit with that branch… one with a concussion and the other with a cracked collarbone," Fin nodded. "How do we prove it? Munchkin's theories won't be enough to convict him."

"We have a third knife to find," Cragen summarized. "Without it, we don't have much of a case against anyone. I'll get CSU to re-canvas the scene and see if they can find it."

"Assuming the kid hasn't told his parents where he ditched it. Odds are, if Steven is the doer, the Phelps sent someone to get it already," Fin interjected. "He's a juvie, so he has all kinds of ways to play this to his advantage. Without the knife, I doubt the DA will charge him as an adult."

"Yeah. Even if Danvers lives, he isn't likely to be their grandfather's primary heir now. He and Ben will be tried as adults with a long prison stretch ahead of them and a sex offender label on their backs when they get out. Steven is a minor and his records will be sealed, assuming he doesn't get off entirely using his age," Elliot observed. "His brother and cousin will be ruined. Little Stevie wins by default."

"We're getting a little ahead of ourselves," Cragen warned. "We need that knife to tie him to the attack on Danvers or it will be easy for whoever gets charged to argue Danvers got stabbed in the chaos of the brawl… that it could have been anyone. CSU found a chipped tooth approximately fifteen feet from the spot where they had pinned Lucy and have preliminarily linked it to Danvers. That fits John's reconstruction of the chain of events… they were spread out."

"Unless we can prove who stabbed him, the Phelps' attorney could easily argue that Danver's blood got on Steven's clothing because he tried to help Martin or hide behind him. He is only 13, so he's going to look like an innocent kid caught in the middle of the other boys fight," Olivia added. "The rain washed most of the blood off the perps and the onlookers before we could get them into cars, so the stains on their clothes are all we have for now."

"Since the wound is in Danvers' side, it possible he knows who stabbed him," John offered. "He may have been fleeing the attack on his life as much as trying to get away from the police."

"Yeah, that's possible," Liv agreed. "Remember, Lucy said she and Sam thought they were being followed. Maybe Martin Danvers went into the creek too… that's how he got away. We know he wasn't seen leaving by one of the regular paths from O'Malley's report. We found an awful lot of blood on the slope down to the creek, so some of it might have been his. Too bad the rain washed that evidence away."

"Good point about the ladies thinking they were followed," Fin observed, smiling at Olivia. "It could have been either Danvers or the kid ditching the knife. If he knew there was a creek down there, be a good place to pitch it. Still, my money's on Danvers. O'Malley said the uniforms collared the perps in and around the attack sight. He didn't mention any of them being down the slope by the creek."

"Double check that and make sure no one saw Danvers leave by a more conventional route. Talk with Lucy to be sure we have all the names of the ones she recognized. I want to rule out the possibility that someone else got away," Cragen ordered. "I tend to agree with the idea that Danvers followed the ladies… either to finish them off or to escape himself. If it was Steven, why come back up the hill and risk being arrested?"

Grimacing, he added, "Danvers' movements between the time of Samantha Dunbar's intervention and the time we know he left for the heliport with his parents is still a blank page in our reports. We need to fill in that page, people."

"Liv and I can talk to Lucy later this morning. We need to go to the hospital anyway and talk to Samantha Dunbar if she's awake," John proposed. "She woke briefly last night… the doctor upgraded her condition to stable. She was too weak and groggy to tell me anything, but she did know I was there that night. She remembered me from the culvert, so she wasn't unconscious all the time as we thought. That's a good sign for her recovery."

"Good to hear. Maybe she didn't suffer serious brain damage from the assault after all," Cragen agreed. "Other thoughts?"

"You summed it up already, Cap. We need that knife," Elliot stressed. "If Danvers' blood was only found on Steven, he looks good as the doer. He also has a motive and a rep as being the type."

"I point-blank called Ms. Adams on something she said about Steven," Munch offered. "She said his being there didn't fit the pattern of his relationship with Ben and Martin, but didn't correct me when I commented it seemed she was only surprised they had let him come, not that he would take part in the attack itself. Her only reply was 'he is a difficult child'."

"His records may be the ones the Phelps want suppressed," Cragen observed. "Does Winthrop do psych or personality testing?"

"Don't know, but we can ask Ms. Adams once Casey gets the TRO's lifted to search the school files," Munch replied, making a note to follow up.

"Call Casey when we're done here and get an update," Cragen ordered.

"There's one other possibility we haven't considered," Olivia mused, looking up from her notes. "What if Danvers has the knife? He traveled a long way to get home regardless of the path he took. The wound the NSUH doctors found was deep and caused serious internal injuries. If he was holding the knife in place, it would have kept the bleeding under control until it was removed. He would have been bleeding internally, but not that much externally. Explains why no one saw a bleeding man fleeing the park. Once the knife was removed, it would have gushed. Could be how he almost bled out so long after the attack."

Nodding, Cragen instructed, "Talk to Warner and see if that idea holds up. Fin, you and Elliot take another run out to Glen Cove and see if Danvers is able to talk… this time as a potential victim. Makes my skin crawl to call him that, but we need to know how he got knifed. John, call Casey and add a warrant to search the Danvers' helicopter to our wish list."

-----

"I am Peter Lawrence, attorney for the Danvers family."

"Detectives Tutuola and Stabler. We need to talk to Martin Danvers about his injuries," Fin responded, instantly taking a dislike to the smug, complacent man blocking their way into the hospital room.

Smiling, Lawrence asked, "Martin Danvers is still unconscious and unable to speak with you. Perhaps, I can be of assistance."

"Blood evidence already conclusively places your client at the scene, counselor, as does the chipped tooth he left behind," Stabler offered. "We're not here to question him about his part in the attempted rape and the aggravated assault and battery against the two women. We just want to ask him if he knows who stabbed him."

"Martin Danvers had no part in those crimes, detectives," he began.

"Save the bullshit," Fin interjected. "The DNA sample we got yesterday confirms he was there. Now, do you want to continue to waste our time or can we get to the business of discussing who stabbed your client and nearly killed him?"

"My son was not part of the gang that attacked Lucy Hellman, detectives. He went there in an attempt to stop that madness. He nearly died for his efforts."

Turning, they found they had been joined by Marianna and Jack Danvers. "Detectives Stabler and Tutuola," Elliot began. "If your son would like to give us a statement, he is free to offer an alternative explanation for his presence in the park that night. Our primary reason for coming here today is to find out if he knows who stabbed him."

Trading a look with his attorney, Jack Danvers replied, "Our son is still too weak to speak to you detectives, but I can tell you who stabbed him. His cousin… Steven Phelps."

"Steven is a 13 year old boy, Mr. Danvers," Fin began, giving no sign that they had tentatively confirmed Munch's theory. "Why would he want to kill his cousin?"

Sighing, Mrs. Danvers motioned for the detectives to follow them into a private waiting room. "My father wanted sons, Det. Tutuola, but my sister and I are his only children. When our sons were born, he became fixated on grooming them as his heirs. To my husband's and my regret, we allowed him to involve Martin in competitions with his cousin Ben, believing it would bring out the best in both boys, but we have had to face the fact that it created a destructive rivalry between the boys rather than a healthy camaraderie. Steven has recently decided he wanted to join their games, but… Steven scares us."

Mr. Danvers picked up the narrative. "It seems our fears were justified when Martin returned home the other night with a knife in his side! I admit Ben and Martin have often been unruly, but never criminal. The other night goes well beyond anything Martin… and I would have thought Ben as well, would do. Steven has begun to display… behavior that has worried the family in the last few years."

"What kind of behavior?" Elliot pressed, trading a look with Fin.

"My sister confided in me that they had been forced to send Steven to see a counselor three years ago and that he was on medications to control his impulses," Mrs. Danvers admitted. "They had to provide the school nurse with treatment information, so there will be records of his medication in the school files."

"Impulses? What impulses?" Fin asked.

"I… really shouldn't say," she began.

Her husband broke into her hesitant answer. "I know you hate breaking Martha's confidence, Anna, but he nearly killed our son. Our first obligation is to him. Steven is a danger to all of us."

"If you know something…" Elliot began.

In a low, troubled voice, Marianna Danvers offered, "There was a little girl… the daughter of one of their maids and their driver. They lived in a small apartment over the garage. Steven… hurt the child. The parents didn't have their green cards, so my brother-in-law paid them off and sent them back to Honduras. It happened earlier this year, sometime between the winter and spring terms. There were earlier incidents with a couple of other children… playmates and children of other employees, but it was hushed up. He forced his hand into one child's pants… scared her enough she tired to run and fell… breaking her arm in the process. There was another he convinced he knew a fun game to play and… There were others."

A heavy weight settled into the pit of both detectives' stomachs as Mrs. Danvers' voice broke and trailed off. "What do you mean 'hurt the child'?" Fin demanded.

Gathering his wife's hands into his own, Jack Danvers offered, "My sister-in-law was not very clear on the details, detectives, but she admitted Steven raped the child… repeatedly. He had apparently lured her into a little used storeroom in the cellar and held her there for several hours. The child nearly died. She was three at the time. We have cut off all contact with them since."

"How could you have failed to report something like this to the police?" Elliot exclaimed, incensed by their story. "You do realize we will need to verify your claims? We'll need their names and a way to track them."

"Of course we understand, detectives! I haven't slept through the night since we learned about what he had done, but she is my sister! I held Steven in my arms when he was a baby! I didn't know how to face the fact that my nephew is a monster!" Breaking down, she began to sob against her husband's chest. "If I had… all of this would have been avoided. My son almost died at his hands and poor Lucy Hellman… the woman that saved her were hurt because I failed them!"

"There's more isn't there?" Fin demanded.

Cradling his distraught wife against him, Jack Danvers nodded. "We broke off all contact with them when they refused to have Steven committed to a mental institution for treatment. Ben was furious with us for our position… claimed we were betraying the family. He refused to see the truth about his brother, but Martin did."

"That only made the competition between Ben and Martin worse. Ben decided he would go after Lucy. She and our son dated had a few times, but… she refused to continue seeing him. I was actually rather pleased by that… hoped it would make Martin rethink his behavior because he really likes Lucy," Danvers recalled. "In any case, Lucy flatly refused to go out with Ben and… in the wake of our demands regarding Steven, a war of sorts has raged ever since."

"We haven't spent any time with my sister's family since last spring, so we hadn't realized how much the dynamic between the brothers changed over the summer," Marianna Danvers whispered. "In many respects, it appears that Steven is the dominant one now. The plan to rape Lucy Hellman was Steven's idea, detectives. Ben went along with him after Steven convinced him she had insulted their family by refusing him. Steven apparently got the others involved by stirring them up over a pledge Lucy encouraged several girls to sign to refrain from having sex until they are over 21."

Sighing, she added, "It is my understanding Ben and a couple of the other boys have been heavily abusing drugs… running wild for the last few months. Ben was arrested last month, but Andrew… his father, managed to get the charges dropped and the matter hushed up. I've heard this report from several close friends, including Paul's mother, Judith Morgenstern. She's Andrew's sister. Paul had been with Ben earlier in the evening and had gone home rather than to the bar where he was arrested. She was frantic about the whole incident and forbade Paul to associate with his cousin any further. It seems he didn't obey that order."

"If Ben has developed a drug problem, that may explain how Steven managed to gain the upper hand and dominate his brother," Jack Danvers speculated. "He was arrested with both cocaine and crystal meth in his possession. His tox-screen was positive for both from what Judith told us."

"If you son wasn't part of the gang, why was he there that night, Mr. Danvers?" Fin pressed.

"The other night… Martin learned about their plans a short time before it was to happen. Another girl, Sarah Liebman, came to him at the last minute and told him what they were going to do… begged him to help Lucy, so he went to the park to try and stop them. I know he should have called the police, but he thought he could talk some sense into them and keep the police out of it," Jack Danvers offered. "One of the boys saw him approaching and they tackled him. They were struggling with him when Lucy was pushed down the hill. That's when his tooth was broken."

"After the onlookers entered the fray, Steven saw that Martin had broken free of the boys that were holding him down. The other boys were more concerned with getting away, but Steven took the opportunity to slip up behind our son," Danvers reported.

After running a weary hand through his golden-brown hair, he continued. "I don't know if it was retribution for Martin interfering in their plans or if he saw an opportunity to kill his perceived rival… anger, perhaps, over our insistence he be institutionalized… Fortunately, Martin turned in time to see Steven's intent, but not in time to stop him."

"He had intended to stab Martin in the back… through the heart, but the knife ended up in his side. Martin managed to grab the hilt and shove Steven to the ground before stumbling away down the hill into the creek. He found his way home from there, the knife still in his side. He was too scared to pull it out… afraid he would bleed to death if he did," Danvers summarized.

"You do realize we will need to investigate your claims? We need the knife that was used to stab your son. Can you tell us where it is?" Elliot insisted. "We need the name of any child you believe was harmed by Steven Phelps… any witness that can confirm your allegations."

"Of course, detectives. I have asked Mr. Lawrence and my personal secretary, Karen Tillman, to gather all the information we have to give to the police." Rising to his feet, Jack Danvers motioned for the two detectives to follow him. "The knife is in a bag in Martin's room. Mr. Lawrence has the other information ready."

"Why did you flee the city, Mr. Danvers? I don't see why you risked bringing your son all the way out here rather than to a hospital in the city. He almost bled-out," Fin observed. "Makes your story seem suspect."

"I would imagine it does, but my brother-in-law is a prominent doctor and is very well connected in New York City politics," Jack Danvers replied. "We wanted to get Martin as far from his sphere of influence as possible. Andrew Phelps may not be a sociopath like his son, but he is a mean son-of-a-bitch. I've never trusted or liked him. Frankly, I doubt there is a limit to how far he would go to protect his sons."

Trading a look with his partner, Eliot asked, "Give us your best guess… just how far do you think he would he go?"

Stopping just outside his son's room, Danvers held Stabler's gaze as he offered, "I suggest you find the little girl's family as soon as possible… get them and any other potential witnesses into protective custody. You also need to provide both Lucy Hellman and the woman that helped her with additional security… ban him from seeing them under the guise of his hospital credentials."

"And don't assume your witnesses won't be approached with an offer they can't refuse," he suggested. "The Phelps fortune is vast as is my father-in-laws. Both of his sons will be ruined if this matter plays out as it as it should and Andrew Phelps won't let that happen without a fight. Neither will my father-in-law."

-----


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Blind, Chapter 7

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

FEEDBACK PLEASE!!!

Blind, Chapter 7

"How is she doing this morning?"

The teenage girl looked up as the two detectives paused in the doorway of Samantha Dunbar's ICU room. Lucy gently squeezed the older woman's hand as she replied, "She wakes up for brief periods and talks to me. She remembers who I am, but… she can't see! It's my fault."

Olivia moved quickly to the side of Lucy's wheelchair. Kneeling, she looked the teen directly in the eye. "No, that is not your fault, Lucy. The only ones to blame are the same ones that hurt you. She made a choice to try and help you, but you had no choice in any of this. Be her friend and help her recover, but don't assume responsibility for their crimes. You both deserve better than that."

"Thank you, Det. Benson. My husband and I have been trying to reassure her, but she still feels guilty about Samantha's injuries."

Nodding to the beautiful woman that had appeared in the doorway next to Munch, Olivia looked back to the teen. "The doctors tell us it's too soon to know if Sam will be blind. She's a fighter… she proved that the other night, didn't she? So did you Lucy. You fought bravely and helped get you both out of there. Focus on that, OK?"

"I'm not a fighter…" she whispered, her shoulders drooping.

John moved to stand behind Olivia. "I'm afraid I have to disagree with that, Lucy. I seem to remember you threatening me with a broken bottle when I found you two in the culvert that night. That was brave **and** resourceful. Not many people would have had the presence of mind to make a weapon to defend themselves out of a piece of trash… especially after what you'd been through. Not many people would have worried about helping a stranger. They would have only been worried about getting themselves out of there. What you did was every bit as brave as what Sam did. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Do you hear that, Lucy?" Rebecca Hellman asked. "Det. Munch and Det. Benson are trained police officers. They've seen other people after attacks, so they know. Listen to what they are telling you and concentrate your energies on getting better and helping Sam… all right? Blaming yourself for the crimes of others allows them to continue to hurt you. Don't let them do that, honey!"

They had to lean forward to understand her soft murmur. "You really think I'm brave?"

"Of course we do, Lucy," Olivia soothed. "There are guys that have been on the force for years that are still talking about what you did that night. They all hold you and Sam in great respect."

"Really?"

"Lucy, I've been a cop for over twenty years and I've never seen anyone handle themselves any better… that includes people a lot older than you. We're all proud of you." Smiling down at her upturned face, he promised, "You did great, so don't waste your time and energy second guessing yourself. Just get better."

Lucy held his gaze for another few seconds before she began to sag with exhaustion. Seeing this, Olivia suggested, "You look tired. Why don't you let us take your place keeping Sam company? I bet your Mom would feel better if you let her take you back to your room for a nap. She's been under a lot of stress worrying about you and she needs to rest too."

Seeing the girl's gaze turn to study her mother, Olivia knew she had guessed right… that Lucy was more likely to respond to concern over another's needs than her own. "OK, but… I've been thinking. I need to ask you something about that night."

"OK, what?"

Tears welled in her eyes as she asked, "Did Sarah… did she betray me? She hasn't been to see me and… Mom says she went to France to see her grandmother. She's running away isn't she?"

"Honestly, Lucy, we don't know yet. We have to investigate that possibility, but she may be innocent. Her folks may have been afraid and sent her to a safe place in case someone tried to hurt her like those boys did you." Squeezing her hand, Olivia smiled. "Don't assume the worst until we know more, OK?"

"Sarah's mom is like my second mother and… she hasn't come to see me either. She must have been involved; I know it," Lucy whispered, tears flowing down her pale, bruised cheeks.

"Maybe, but we don't know that, Lucy. Let us finish our investigation before you decide," John urged. "Like Olivia said, her parents may have sent her away hoping to keep her safe. We don't know why she left yet. We need to talk to her and her parents to be able to answer that conclusively."

"The Liebmans are refusing to talk to you?" Rebecca Hellman demanded, moving to her daughter's side.

Sighing, Olivia rose and moved aside so that the woman could wheel her daughter toward the door. "They have been unavailable so far. We plan to try to talk to them again today."

A terse nod was Mrs. Hellman's only response. Both detectives felt certain that the attorney understood the implications of the Liebmans' refusal to talk to the police… and the likely meaning behind Sarah's flight to France. Only her daughter's presence kept her from demanding more answers.

"Wait!" Lucy insisted, as he mother pushed her from the room. Turning to look back at the two detectives, she announced, "I remembered something important this morning and I need to tell you."

"What's that, Lucy?" Olivia asked.

"Martin… Austin and Charlie were holding him down. He looked like they had been hitting him… he was all bruised and bleeding," she reported. "They had him pinned to the ground and Steven Phelps was sitting on his legs. He was covering Martin's mouth with his hand. Steven had a knife. Martin may not have been… He was so mad and he kept struggling to get free. I think he was trying to get them to stop."

"Are the events of the other night becoming clearer in your mind, Lucy?" John prompted. "Do you remember details you haven't told us yet?"

"Yes… I woke up this morning and… it seemed a lot clearer. When we talked yesterday, it was all a blur and I was so scared!" she admitted. "I could only see faces, but… not always what they were doing. This morning… it seemed more real. Does that make sense?"

Patting her shoulder, John nodded. "That can happen after a violent attack like the one you experienced. Have you talked about what you remembered with anyone else?"

"No."

"Good. You're too tired to talk about it now… you're barely awake as it is, so why don't you let your mother take you back to your room for a nap? Olivia and I will come see you later today and you can tell us everything you remember from the beginning." Glancing up at her mother, he added, "Your mother is a lawyer so she knows it's very important that you not discuss your memories with anyone until we take your statement, OK?"

"I can do it now…" she began.

"No, Lucy. Det. Munch is right. You're exhausted and you need to be alert and focused to give a thorough statement." Holding John's gaze, she concluded, "I will be with you at all times until they do, but you need to rest now. Thank you, detective, for being so considerate of her situation."

"Lucy is the victim here, Mrs. Hellman. We don't want to do anything that adds to her pain." Smiling he finished, "Sleep well, Lucy. We'll talk to you later today."

-----

Trading a look with Munch, Olivia moved toward the door. "I'll give Fin and Elliot a call. They need to know…"

Her cell phone rang before she could complete her thought. "Benson."

Munch moved to her side seeing her eyes grow big as her caller began to speak. "Damn, Fin! That fits with what Lucy just told us. We need to get a complete statement from her ASAP."

"She said her memories are becoming clearer. She told us Martin Danvers was being held down by two of the other boys… Steven was sitting on his legs with a knife in his hand. She thinks he was trying to get them to stop. He may not be one of our perps after all."

"Yeah… Munch will be hard to live after this," she replied, grinning as he rolled his eyes. "Warner confirmed my hunch that he could have kept going for a while if he held the knife in place. She said it fit the facts of his making it to Long Island with a wound like that."

"Not much doubt then that Sarah was part of the plan since she knew what they were going to do. Have you talked to Casey about an arrest warrant for her?"

"There's more?"

"Shit… this just keeps getting worse! You have names…" she demanded, holding up her hand to halt John's questions.

Pulling out her pad, she jotted down several notes… a couple of names. "OK. John and I will start tracking down the Honduran family. We'll go by INS and the Honduran Embassy to see what they can tell us. We need to find them fast."

Sighing, she concluded, "Have you called Cragen about sending over a couple of uniforms to guard their rooms until we know more?"

"OK, we'll hang around here until they arrive. We need to err on the side of caution at this point. Too many loose ends and unsubstantiated claims for my comfort. John can sit with Sam and I'll go up to Lucy's room until the uniforms arrive."

Nodding, Liv added, "We'll talk to the ICU staff and Mrs. Hellman to make sure he has no access to either of them. Phelps sounds like a real bastard."

Watching as Olivia broke the connection, John demanded, "What?"

"You may have nailed it, partner. That was Fin. They just spoke with Jack and Marianna Danvers and…

-----

Hearing a soft moan from the bed, John rose and walked to Sam's bedside. Taking her hand, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Sam? It's John."

A soft "John… thirsty," had him reaching for the glass of ice water the nurses had left by her bed. Bending the straw so that she could easily reach it, he encouraged her to take small sips.

"Not too much at one time… small sips, Sam."

It took her several minutes to muster the energy to take enough sips to quench her thirst. "Thanks."

Judging her condition, he asked, "How are you feeling today?"

"Hurts less. Tired… but…"

"But, what, Sam? Do you need anything? Tell me and I'll do all I can to get it for you."

A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth… pulling the scab left by a split lip. "Nice to talk. You read to me didn't you?"

"I did last night. I plan to come back after work and spend a few hours with you if that's OK. I'll read to you then. Any requests?"

"Don't have to… must have other places to be."

"No, not really. I guess I could work late or go home and warm up a TV dinner… surf the net until I go to bed… maybe read. I'd rather be here getting to know you," he soothed, knowing for once his complete lack of any personal life was a plus. She didn't have to feel guilty about taking up his time.

"Just… being nice."

A chuckle met her observation. "I promise those are my only other options… well, I guess I could go out and get drunk, but that lost its appeal a long time ago. Talking to you is a pleasure… I promise. Do you like to read? Music?"

"Yes… both. Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure. What can I do for you?"

"Can you check… my cat? I'm worried… she needs food… and company."

"A cat? I can do that, but cats hate me. I've never understood why. I can bring them the best tuna or a new ball of catnip and all I get for my troubles is to be hissed at. Sort of reminds me of my relationship with my ex," he joked. "Where can I find a key?"

"Left it with my… doorman while… jogging. Tell Tony… it's OK. Food's in cabinet next to frig. Her name's Megan."

"Megan. OK, I'll go on my lunch hour. Can I bring you anything else? Nightgown, robe… music?"

"Robe please… in bath… behind door. Music… cd's… my player."

"OK. I'll take Liv with me. She's my partner. I'll ask her to pack you a few things to make you more comfortable here, OK? Thought you might prefer to have another woman going through your clothes."

A faint "Thanks," drifted to his hearing as she slipped back into sleep.

-----


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Blind, Chapter 8

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Fin/Olivia, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin!

Reviews/feedback appreciated!!!

Blind, Chapter 8

"I'm sorry, Detectives. We don't have any record of a Jorge and Dorotea Alvarez from anywhere in Honduras being deported in the last two years."

"No records at all?" Munch asked, glancing over at Olivia. This was what they had expected to be told. A slow crawl through late-morning traffic had given them time to analyze their case from all angles and they had concluded that it was probable that the Phelps had pulled stings to keep the Alvarez deportation, therefore the record of their daughter's presence in New York, out of the official records. That raised all sorts of questions, beginning ominously, with the actual fate of the family in question.

"Let me check the general files for a match." Looking up from the computer, the young woman at the INS Bureau frowned. "This is strange. There is an entry dated April 8th of this year where they were reported as illegal by their employers, but they voluntarily returned to Honduras without need for a formal action. Usually, we have to force deportation once we receive this type of report; that's why I looked in the deportation records first."

Trading a look with Olivia, John asked, "Can you tell us who made that report?"

"The report was filed on behalf of Andrew and Martha Phelps by their attorney, Daniel Steinman. The Phelps own a house on Park Avenue. It appears the Alvarez family was living there at the time of the report" Alice Waters replied. "Do you need the address?"

"Thanks; we already have it. Can we get a print out of your report?" Olivia asked. "We need to document the incident for a case we're investigating."

"Not a problem."

"Does the entry indicate when the Alvarez family left New York?" John inquired. "If so, does the file say if they planned to return to their home in the village of Concepción?"

"They left… on June 29. The family was cleared to stay until their daughter was able to travel," was the reply. "And… yes, they listed Concepción as their destination on their exit documents."

"Is there anything that explains why their daughter was unable to travel for almost three months?" John pressed, leaning over the counter to try and see the computer screen. "Was the child born here?"

"Yes. The parents produced a birth certificate from a clinic in Queens documenting her birth four years ago … July 17, so Paulina Rosa Alvarez has American citizenship and can return to this country if she wishes." Opening a link in the report, Alice responded, "She was in an accident and was unable to travel until her injuries healed. Dr. Andrew Phelps is listed as her physician. I guess that's how he discovered they were illegal."

"Dr. Phelps was her attending physician?" Olivia repeated, an uneasy feeling skittering along her spine at the thought. "Do you have a record of where she was hospitalized?"

"Not really… which is strange. We would have required proof of a medical hardship in order to allow the parents to stay with her. The only notation is that the child was treated at a private clinic, but the name and address of the clinic was not entered, detective," she replied with a frown. "It should have been included in the record."

"Is it possible the actual hard-copy file might have that information, Ms. Waters? It's important," John stressed, the focused expression on his face confirming her initial assumption that their investigation involved serious crimes. /I wonder what the link is to SVU? Damn… the little girl! What happened to her?/

"I'd be happy to look, detective, but this may be the only record of the Alvarez family that we retained once they left the country. Since it was only a few months ago, the hard-copy may not have been purged yet. I can only assume it was a clerical error that the name of the facility wasn't included here like it should have been," she concluded. "Sorry there isn't more. Do you want a copy of all of these pages? You can have those while I go see what we have in the files."

"Thanks. You've been a lot of help," Olivia offered. "Can you tell us which agent handled this case?"

"That's an easy… Damn! That field is vacant too!" she exclaimed. "I'll need to get my supervisor. This file is missing a lot of key information. I find it hard to believe all of this is simply a clerical error."

Looking over at John as the clerk left to find her boss, Olivia frowned. "If Phelps' attorney was trying to cover loose ends, why would he have let them keep the record of her citizenship? I'd think he would want to erase all evidence they were ever here. Frankly, I surprised there is any record of them at all; that isn't what we were expecting to find here."

"Maybe Jorge and Dora had some help… their own lawyer or someone at the embassy advising them," John speculated. "They may have had proof the attack… something that forced Phelps to allow them to document Paulina before they left."

Nodding, Liv suggested. "Let's head over to the Honduran Embassy next. Maybe they have a record of the Alvarez family, especially if they went there for help. Casey may be able to help us. She got us that contact last year when we had the case involving Maria, the little girl held by that pedophile pornographer."

"Give her a call and see if she can set us up with somebody. While she's doing that, we can pay a visit to the Medical Licensing Board and see if they can tell us the hospitals and clinics where Dr. Phelps has privileges." Holding her gaze, John added, "I'm willing to bet there will be a private clinic on the list. If the child was raped, he wouldn't have wanted her in a regular hospital where too many questions would have been asked. A private clinic gave him total control of the situation."

-----

"Janey was so upset. Steven put his hands… where he had no business putting them," Phyllis Mathias began. "We were at the Phelps for a party they hosted for the other families in the practice. The younger children were supposed to be playing in the game room… Steven's nanny was there to supervise them, but there were over fifteen children and only two adults to watch them. She had her hands full and one of us should have realized…"

"So, how did he get her alone?" Fin questioned.

Sighing, Mrs. Mathias offered, "Apparently, he told Jane he had something he wanted to show her in his room and they slipped away unseen. A maid heard Janey crying and opened the door to see what was happening. Steven was distracted by the maid and Jane managed to wiggle free of his hold on her. She ran blindly out of the door in a panic and she tripped on the stairs. She broke her arm in the fall."

"Why didn't you report this to the police, Mrs. Mathias?" Elliot asked, making notes on the incident.

"The Phelps assured us he would be punished for his behavior. Jane was never allowed to associate with him after that and… Steven was only nine, detective," she explained. "My husband and I discussed it. Both Phelps boys are horribly spoiled, unpleasant in my opinion. We concluded his behavior was due to the lack of limits they had given him and hoped he would learn from his punishment. Martha was horrified and furious with him. I truly thought they would take appropriate action to correct his behavior."

"What was Dr. Phelps' reaction?" Fin inquired.

"He wanted to excuse it as 'boys will be boys', but Martha realized it was far more serious than that. She promised me he would be punished," she replied. "My husband is a partner in the same practice as Andrew Phelps, so we accepted her assurances and let them keep the matter private. After we heard about both boys part in the attack on Lucy Hellman… we've been second guessing our decision ever since."

"How did you know the name of the victim? We never release the name of victims to the press," Elliot demanded.

Surprised, Phyllis Mathias admitted, "Her identity is common knowledge in the Upper East Side, Detective. I received several calls from friends telling me what had happened the next morning. They knew it was Lucy along with the names of all the little monsters involved. As I understand it, the boys told several of their friends about their plans… tried to recruit them. They had the good sense to refuse, but lacked the strength of character and common decency to tell someone that might have prevented it."

"We need the names of those other boys, Mrs. Mathias," Fin insisted. "They may be able to tell us details about the plans for the assault. If they had no actual part in the crime, they won't be arrested. We'll do our best to keep your name out of it."

Hesitating, she finally nodded her head. "My husband might not agree with me for giving you their names, but they should be held accountable for their conduct. If the worst that happens to them is they get hauled into the police station, they should count themselves lucky. All they had to do was tell their parents or a teacher… warn Lucy and all of this would have been avoided."

Opening a drawer in the desk next to her, she withdrew a pad and wrote down several names. "I'm also adding the names of the parents of two other children you need to visit. Since the attack in the park, we have learned that there were other children Steven… abused. Like us, their parents allowed themselves to remain silent thinking it was an isolated incident and that Steven would be punished for his conduct. We are all feeling physically ill for not having seen how dangerous he was."

Accepting the list, Elliot pressed, "Is there anything else you can direct us to that might help us find other children Steven might have hurt?"

"I don't know this as fact, but… several of my friends have told me that the Phelps no longer employ people with children for domestic staff positions that requires them to live in-residence," she offered, her expression grim. "They have a beach house in the Hamptons in addition to their house here in the City… another in Palm Beach. They may have others; I can't say. It is also rumored that both sets of grandparents have experienced a similar change in their hiring practices."

"You wouldn't happen to know the names of any of their former employees would you?" Elliot questioned, anxious to pursue this line of investigation. Experience told him that where there was one family that had been paid to keep their mouths shut about Steven, there would be others.

"My in-laws hired a maid that used to work for the Phelps. She is divorced… has no children, but she may be able to tell what it was like living in that house… give you other names," she suggested. "Her name is Angela Kennedy. I'm sure my mother-in-law will arrange time for you to meet with Angie. Silva has been so worried about Janey… she never agreed with out decision to remain silent about the assault."

"How is your daughter doing, Mrs. Mathias?" Fin asked, knowing all to well the long-term effects of an attack on a child's mind and heart.

"Thank you for asking, detective. My husband and I have spent a lot of time helping her put the incident behind her… gone with her for counseling." Sighing, she confessed, "She is doing as well as we could expect, but we are keeping special watch on her moods until this awful business is resolved. We won't let it upset her peace of mind. We fought too hard to give that back to her."

"What exactly did Steven do? The actual date of the attack is also important. I hate to ask, but we need to know so that we can see if there is a pattern to his behavior," Fin gently asked.

Looking away, Phyllis Mathias answered in a low, strained voice. "It was a Saturday in mid-March… the 19th. As for what happened… once they were alone in his room, he forced her onto his bed and began to kiss her… roughly pushed his hand under her skirt. He left bruises and… her hymen was broken. He was brutal. In retrospect… He would have raped her if the maid hadn't heard her cries. We will live with the guilt that we let ourselves be talked out of having his arrested for the rest of our lives. I can't offer any excuse for our stupidity."

"How old was Jane at the time of the assault?" Elliot asked, concluding their interview.

"My baby was only six."

-----

A soft mew near the couch drew both John and Olivia's attention. "You must be Megan," Liv softly coaxed. "Sam asked us to check on you, sweetie. Come here, pretty kitty, kitty, kitty."

Unimpressed, the chocolate-point Birman pulled back behind the sofa, her large blue eyes fixed on the intruders into her domain.

Undeterred, Olivia tried again. "Megan? Come here, sweetie. John and I are here to feed you, pretty girl."

Megan shifted a second-time, her whiskers barely visible.

Grinning, John asked, "Any more bright ideas, Ms. Cat Person?"

Shaking her head, she suggested, "Why don't you find her food while I gather up some personal items and toiletries for Sam? That should give her some time to relax around us and the food should win her over."

Nodding, John took a moment to scan the tastefully decorated living room. While small, the room was warm and inviting. A fireplace dominated one wall and a line of bookshelves took up another. Walking toward the kitchen, he paused to read the titles in the bookcase nearest the door. Quite a number of the books were ones he had in his own collection. His fingers itched to study a few of the ones he had never read… their titles hinting at their contents.

Forcing himself to move on, he quickly found the cabinet where Sam kept the cat food. Deciding it was best to fill the main bowl to overflowing with dry food, he reached for the bag. Knowing the cat would be left alone for much of the time in the next few weeks, he also reached for a can of Fancy Feast Savory Salmon as a treat.

He had barely popped the top on the can when a mew drew his attention to his feet. "Well, hello Megan. You must be hungry. Let me find a bowl, then you can dig in… OK?"

"Mawou."

"I'm going to assume you like salmon since Sam has several cans in the cabinet," John offered, amused that the cat was wrapping herself around his legs. "I see your affections are for sale, Miss Meggie. Cats don't usually like me, so I suspect you're attracted to the salmon, not me."

"Rowww"

Bending to place the bowl in front of the cat, he replied, "Really? Well, I'm glad to hear you like salmon. Here you go, pretty girl."

Scratching her behind the ears while she ate, he promised, "I'll fill your water bowl while I'm at it, Meg. Sam won't be able to come home for a while… she's been pretty badly hurt but she'll be relieved to know you're OK."

Finishing his tasks, John left the purring cat to her food and wandered back into the living room so that he could select several cd's and find Sam's player to take back to the hospital. Pulling an ottoman in front of a large cd rack, he sat and began to study the titles. Again, he found his collection shared many artists in common with hers. Within a few minutes, he had stacked more than a dozen cd's on the coffee table… mostly jazz since she seemed to share his passion for that genre.

A small, furry body landed on the ottoman at his back as he sorted through the last group. Looking over his shoulder, he greeted, "Hello again. Tell me, Megan… do you prefer jazz or classic rock… maybe classical or opera?"

"Meow… row row."

"Ah… a jazz cat. A kitty after my own heart," he murmured, reaching out to again scratch behind her ears. Purring, Megan jumped into his lap. "Hey… a lady asks before she crawls into a man's lap… especially one that has white fur. My slacks are black in case you failed to notice."

"A kitty after my own heart!"

Looking up at the woman in the doorway to Sam's bedroom, he complained, "I finally find a female that wants to sit in my lap and it turns out to be a cat! If this is your idea of matchmaking, Livvie, I should have been a little more specific. I'm not into other species!"

Laughing, Olivia moved over to take a seat on the couch. "Hi Megan. Come here pretty girl."

With total distain, the cat turned her back on Olivia and settled completely into John's lap. "It seems I've made a friend. This is weird… cats usually hate me."

"Megan seems to be very selective about those she shares her affections with, Johnny boy. She must sense… hidden depth to your soul that eluded your ex's," Olivia teased.

"A cat with taste and discernment, traits none of my ex's possessed," Munch agreed. "So, you made your move yet? We've been so busy I haven't had time to ask… or make arrangements for the confetti."

"Since I've been as busy as you have… in fact spent most of the last few days with you, I'm sorry to report I have nothing to report… except I've noticed a few looks I might have missed before our little talk," she admitted.

Grinning, she added, "How did I miss it for so long?"

Rubbing the cat under her chin, John shook his head. "Damned if I know. For someone as closed-mouth and poker-faced as Fin, he's been even more obvious about his interest the last few days than he was before. It's almost…"

Coming to an abrupt stop, mid-sentence, John stared at Olivia for several seconds before proclaiming, "Damn… the hospital the other night! Fin never showed up like he promised. He was supposed to come back and give me a ride back to 'the house'!" John exclaimed.

Olivia sat forward. "You think he heard us talking?"

"Yeah… I do. He has been acting way too… pleased with himself. He heard and is confidently sitting back waiting for you to make your move," John concluded. "How are you going to play this?"

Settling into the comfort of the overstuffed couch, Olivia gave him a wicked grin. "Waiting is he? Humm… I think I need to change the game plan. I want to be pursued… courted."

Grinning, John went back to petting the cat. "Be careful there, Liv. Play too many games and you might just screw this up."

The grin on her face faded. "Damn it, John! Whose side are you on here?"

"Side? I'm not on either side, Det. Benson … I'm on the sideLINES." Holding up his hand to halt her retort, he added, "I'm on the sidelines waiting to see two of my best friends finally get together and make each other happy. Playing games isn't going to solve anything and it might damage something you already have… trust and mutual respect. You need to decide what you want here, Liv… a serious relationship with a future or an affair marred by games and misunderstandings."

Sagging, she frowned at him. "I hate it when you're right. So, what do you suggest I do?"

"Here's a thought… maybe try having an honest-to-goodness conversation with the man? I hate to suggest that since it could set a pattern for the future," he teased, "But it might help move things along. Besides, you both so need to get laid! I dread the thought of being around you two if you stretch this out much longer."

Shaking her head at the smirking man, she retorted, "You know smug and self-satisfied isn't a good look if you're hoping to attract your own Ms. Right! It's not a turn-on for most women… and we both know how desperately YOU need to get laid, Munchkin! Megan is the closest thing to a little… 'kitty' action you've had in your lap in a very long time!!!"

Both man and cat gave the grinning woman identical disdainful looks before resuming their prior occupations… respectively, finding a good mix of cd'd and getting petted while leaving as much white fur on his black pants as possible.

-----


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Blind, Chapter 9

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Fin/Olivia, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Please read and review!!! I really appreciate getting feedback!! Happy New Year!!!

-----

Blind, Chapter 9

"What does you gut tell you about this kid, George?" Cragen asked. "We need to know what we're dealing with here."

Turning to face the 16th precinct's commander, Huang admitted, "I can't offer any definitive conclusions at this point, Don. I would need to talk with him at length to be able to diagnose his condition."

"Understood. What's your initial reaction from what we've learned so far?" Cragen pressed, trading looks with his senior detectives.

"At the very least, I suspect he is suffering from conduct disorder… but we both know there is every likelihood his condition is far worse," Huang began. **"**The reports of his prior offenses show a pattern of an escalating level of violence, a complete lack of remorse and empathy for the pain he has inflected, and a calculated quality to his actions. His parents seem to be either unable or unwilling to curb his impulses."

"Is he a sociopath, George?"

Sighing, George nodded his head. "I suspect he may be. His parents obviously know he is a threat to other children given what Fin and Elliot have uncovered about their decision not to allow employees with children to live at any of their homes. They have to know that is only a temporary fix. Eventually, he will become a threat to any woman he finds alone in the house or out… assuming he doesn't retain a preference for children."

"Is that likely?" Fin demanded. "Is he a pedophile in the making?"

"That's hard to say, Fin. For some sexual predators, their desires may be imprinted from their first experiences. With a sociopath, there may be other triggers… needs that drive them," Huang clarified. "At this point, I simply have no way of knowing with any certainty."

"Is this his first venture out of the comfort of his home or do you think we can find other vics that might not be under the thumb of his father?" Elliot asked.

"The full extent of his behavioral problems has been covered up. It looks like most of the parents of his classmates and peer group have had enough concern about him that they no longer allow their children to associate with Steven." Pausing, he added, "My guess is there are other incidents that we have yet to connect to Steven… both in and out of the home. Do you have any more leads?"

"We're still looking, Doc, but families in these social circles don't talk to cops if they can avoid it," Fin commented. "Frankly, I'm amazed we've gotten as many to open up to us as we have. They are scared of this kid… with good reason it seems to me."

Nodding, Huang offered, "Steven is virtually a pariah among his peers… both it seems from his conduct and from being promoted two grades. The demands by the Danvers that he be institutionalized last spring seem to have changed some of the internal dynamic of the family. Mrs. Phelps lost her confidant… the only voice beyond her husband and father that might have made her see reason. During that time frame, Ben allowed Steven to enter his circle, perhaps control it to some extent. If the older boys have been heavily using drugs, this might explain how it happened."

"In any case, Steven now has access to older victims for his games and seems to be making the most of that opportunity. I suggest you widen the scope of the investigation to include open assault cases that might fit his profile… especially ones in and around Central Park," Huang continued. "The people that know him have every reason to be afraid of this kid. If he truly is a sociopath, his crimes will only get worse. He's tried to kill once… he will again. With his family's wealth to shield him, this may be the only chance we will get to try to prevent that from happening."

"So, I need to get the DA to agree to charge him as an adult," Casey Novak concluded. "If he gets sentenced through the juvenile justice system, he will be free when he turns 18, his records sealed."

"Much as it troubles me to think of a 13 year old in the adult system, I don't think you have much choice, Casey, but that has risks too," Huang pointed out. "It won't be hard for his attorney to hang a jury on the idea he is simply a troubled teen that was in the wrong place at the wrong time, led astray by his older brother. You're going to need to find a way to get his prior acts into evidence. The rape of the little girl, Paulina Alvarez, is your best chance at that. I doubt the parents of the other children will be willing to come forward and file charges."

"Any luck, Casey, at getting the Honduran Embassy to help us track down the Alvarez Family?" John asked, before taking a sip of his coffee.

Sighing, the strawberry-blond shook her head. "The diplomat I worked with last year on the other case had been reassigned to Spain. The new Ambassador hasn't shown much willingness to get involved on our behalf. I sent a request for assistance to our Embassy in Tegucigalpa. So far, no response. If this continues, I'll see if the DA can pull some strings."

Frowning, Olivia asked, "Was the new Ambassador here at the time Paulina and her family left the country?"

"Yes. Do you think Phelps paid him off to keep quiet about the girl and her parents?" Casey responded. "I ask because that thought has crossed my mind; that's why I may need Branch's help. His connections might cut through this crap better than my meager ones."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. Someone had to have helped them. Phelps isn't likely to have wanted Paulina to have citizenship and risk her showing up at some future date to demand more money from them on her own behalf," Olivia reasoned. "I doubt the Alvarez were in any position to go head to head with him on their own and win."

"My thoughts exactly," Fin agreed. "Is it possible that someone had some proof against Steven… pictures or tape of what he did? Phelps wouldn't want anyone to see that. His boy would end up in Juvie until he was 18 at the very least."

"Who do you have in mind, partner?" John pressed. "Did you and Elliot find anyone that works for Phelps that looks good for something like that?"

"Yeah, their butler retired out of the blue this summer. Our money's on him," Fin offered, seeing Elliot nod in agreement out of the corner of his eye. "He and his wife moved to Atlantic City… rumored to be living large, but nobody knows how they are affording it on what a butler could save."

Elliot added, "Wife was a legal secretary, so she's not likely to have earned enough to make it possible either. Both are in their late forties, so their unplanned retirement suggests they came into some money all of a sudden."

"Phelps isn't going to want them around if they shook him down and helped the Alvarez Family do the same. An early retirement in style gets them out of the way and makes the blackmailers happy," Cragen mused. "Fin… why don't you take a run down to AC and see what you can find out about them… see if they are willing to talk."

"If they helped the Alvarez Family get Paulina documented… a settlement of their own, they have a conscious. Most blackmailers would have only worried about getting their own," Olivia mused. "Maybe you can use that to get them to talk."

"Unless they wanted to document them so the Phelps couldn't make the family go away permanently," Elliot countered. "A documented Paulina means they could go back for another payment if they need to later."

"Could be either," Huang admitted. "I tend to think Olivia may be right because most blackmailers would want to have as little possibility of being exposed as possible. If they have proof, they are better off letting the Alvarez Family disappear into Honduras."

"Olivia… why don't you make the Atlantic City run with Fin?" Cragen suggested. "Play them if necessary, but we need to know if Fin's hunch is right."

Struggling to contain his laughter at the lame attempt the pair was making to look nonchalant, Cragen ended the meeting shortly after making the assignment. He quickly disappeared into his office and closed the door. The others quickly scattered, broad grins on their faces turned carefully away from the oblivious couple.

-----

Entering Sam's hospital room later that night, John was relieved to find her awake and listening to one of the CD's he had brought by earlier. Tapping on the doorframe to let her know he was there, he offered, "That has to be one of my favorite recordings of all time."

"John… hi. Mine too." A groggy smile greeted his words. "I've got 'Kinda Blue' on album, cassette… and CD."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one that does that. Some of my favorite albums I had to buy over and over again… they kept getting broken. Cassettes and CD's seem to be more durable," he observed, a rueful smile coloring in his voice.

Turning slightly in his direction of his voice, Sam softly asked, "How did you keep breaking them?"

Laughing outright, he joked, "I made the mistake of marrying a music-hater. My ex would raid my album collection and start breaking vinyl as soon as she lost an argument… or when I came home late from work and she was feeling neglected. Being right or having a good excuse was never a good thing with Nancy. For such a ditz, she always seemed to find my favorites."

"She broke albums? China ok… crystal maybe… but albums?" Sam murmured, a smile lifting the corners of her lips. "I see why… she's your ex."

"She was ex number 2, but that's another story." Pulling up a chair to her bedside, he asked, "Why is china ok, but crystal a maybe? Personal experience?"

"Broken glass… the worst. I don't care how hard you try… you never find last piece… until you're barefooted. Never fails… hurts," she joked, her weakened condition making her words sound heavy and labored despite her best attempts to focus on the conversation. "And my ex… threw accusations… taunts. Worse… hurts more."

Watching her closely for signs she was overextending herself, he nodded in agreement. "You're right about that. How long you been divorced?"

"Three years." Sighing, she added, "Told nurse… don't want see him. Last thing I need."

Going on alert at her comment, John hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do we need to be concerned about him causing trouble?"

Sam was silent for a long minute before answering. "Richard refused… to leave me alone… even after he remarried. Why I moved here… and told none of my friends where I was going. Bad marriage... worse divorce."

"He stalked you?" John demanded, wanting to be sure of that fact.

"Yeah."

"OK, Sam. I'll take care of this. I'll make sure the officers watching your room know to keep him out," John insisted. "We'll keep him from bothering you. What's his name?"

"Richard Welch," she supplied, her voice becoming thready from exhaustion. Struggling to remained focused, she whispered, "Why are… officers watching?"

"Just a precaution… the father of two of the perps is a doctor. We don't want him bothering you... maybe making a plea on their behalf. That's not likely, but we aren't taking any chances on his hassling you," John hedged. "The families of all of the perps are rich and powerful. We have no reason to think they would approach you, but we owe it to you to be sure. OK?"

Sighing, she agreed. "OK… but want to know… if more."

"I promise to keep you posted." Hesitating to drain her resources further, he finally asked, "Is your ex-husband violent?"

Sam fell silent again before she finally admitted, "He… tried to dominate… control me. Didn't realize… until after I married him. Left him several times… he promised to change… never did"

"Abusive men always make that promise, but seldom keep it," John agreed. "He continued to harass you after the divorce?"

"After I left him the last time… he refused to sign papers. I got a restraining order... but he harassed me." Taking as deep a breath as her broken ribs would allow, she slowly continued. "That went on two years… until his girlfriend got pregnant. Finally agreed… then married her. I thought it was over… but… He broke into my condo and… It was bad. I'm surprised… he's not here already."

"We didn't have his name and we're managed to keep yours out of the paper," John supplied. "He may not know you were the one hurt in the Central Park case. You're a hero to a lot of people for what you did by the way. I'm right to understand he was physically abusive?"

"I'm no hero," she quietly insisted. "He… could be."

"'he could be'?" John pressed, needing to know how serious a threat her ex represented… and because he felt the need to protect her. "What does that mean, Sam?"

"He slapped me sometimes… shoved me. I lost a baby… he got rough in bed. He… beat… raped me that last time. I'm scared of him," she quietly admitted. "He never lost control completely until then… but it got bad."

"He broke into your condo… beat and raped you?"

"Yes," she whispered, tremors beginning to rack her body at the memory. "I had found a job here… planned to move without telling anyone. Knew he would follow. He refused to… leave me alone."

Seeing she was seriously draining her strength by trying to answer him, John reached over to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "OK. I get the picture, Sam."

Shaking with exhaustion and remembered fear, she continued despite his attempt to end their conversation, needing a release for the fears the beating at the hands of the gang in Central Park had resurrected. "A few weeks before I planned to move… he broke into my condo… raped me... beat me until I passed out. Stole all the money in my bank accounts… used my online access and transferred it to his Cayman accounts… money I had saved after the divorce. It was all I had… I got nothing in divorce… even gave up claim to our joint savings… for my freedom, but…he won't leave me alone. Had to move… cut off my friends. Now…"

Appalled, John reached out to capture her hand. "He got away with that? Didn't the police…"

"Richard rich… powerful, John. Different set of rules," she murmured, her exhaustion coupled with her frayed emotions making her voice weak and difficult to hear.

"Well, you don't have to worry about him bothering you here." Gently squeezing her hand, he promised, "I'll make sure he isn't allowed into your room and that he doesn't bother you once you get out. OK?"

A small smile… a whispered, "Thanks," and Sam fall back asleep.

Once he was sure she had fallen into a deep sleep, John rose and exited the room. He had to make sure her recovery wasn't marred by any unwelcome attention from her ex. After warning the uniforms guarding her room to be on the lookout for Welch, John paid a visit to the hospital security office to alert them of the situation. A call to Cragen completed all of the precautions he could make for her safety at the hospital.

On his way home, John made a stop by her building to check on Megan, her cat, and to warn the super and doorman not to let Richard Welch into Sam's apartment. Grabbing a chicken salad sandwich from the deli next her building, John headed home, intent upon spending a little time on the internet seeing what he could find out about Richard Welch. The police in DC may have let Welch make Sam's life a misery, but the NYPD would see she was protected from her abuser.

-----

The tension in the car was palatable. Fin and Olivia had decided to make the Atlantic City run that evening and stay in a motel for the night… claiming they wanted to be there to get an early start on the investigation the next morning. Neither was yet welling to admit they were hoping to have some time alone, without an audience watching from every corner, to see if they could find a way to move their relationship from possible to actual.

Olivia risked a quick glance at Fin before averting her gaze back to the road in front of them. It was something of a relief that he was driving. She didn't think she had sufficient focus to keep the car between the lines. The need to speak and find out if John was right… confirm Fin was in love with her like she loved him, was racking her body with faint tremors.

"You heard John and me talking the other night at the hospital didn't you?"

Stunned that she had blurted out the question, Fin's grip on the steering wheel jerked slightly, causing the car to swerve briefly into the other lane. Thankful that there hadn't been a car next to them, Fin steered them toward the relative safety of a rest area that seemed to appear out of the blue on his right. He knew the car needed to be safely parked before they attempted to have this conversation.

Once the car was in a space some distance from the other vehicles, Fin slowly turned to face Olivia. Seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, he suddenly understood that she still had doubts about his feelings for her… after all, she had only heard John's opinion. She hadn't had the reassurance of hearing him admit his feeling as he had in hearing hers.

"Yeah, I did." Reaching over to caress her cheek, he gently teased, "Is this your play?"

A small smile lit her face, easing some of the tension. "I guess it is."

"How did you know I heard you guys?"

Tilting her face to nuzzle his hand, Olivia admitted, "John and I figured it out earlier today. I was going to make it tough on you… wait for you to make the first move, but John reminded me that could get dangerous… cause misunderstandings that might ruin any chance we might have to make this work. So… are John and the others right?"

Turning completely in his seat, Fin lifted his other hand to cup her face. Holding her gaze, he slowly bent his head and captured her lips in a deep, drugging kiss. Pulling back reluctantly, he nodded. "Yeah, he's right. I love you, Liv. Have for a long time."

A radiant glow sparkled in her brown eyes. Twining her arms around him, she drew his mouth back to hers. Against his lips, she breathed, "I love you too, Fin. It seems like I've loved you since the day we met."

Several minutes passed before they calmed enough break apart. Cuddling her to him, he whispered, "I guess we need to talk and make sure we both know where we're going with this. I want a lot more than a night in your bed."

"Good," she murmured against his throat. "I'm hoping for more too… a relationship… a future maybe."

His responding chuckle was deep and throaty, betraying his arousal. "Maybe we won't need to talk all that much after all, 'cos it seems we both want the same thing. What do you say we find a place in AC, grab some take-out… talk this through?"

Tugging his head back down for more kisses, Olivia agreed, "Sounds good… talk… grabbing… finding a place… humm…"

-----


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Blind, Chapter 10

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: John/OFC, Fin/Olivia, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

A/N: Sorry for the long delay in updating this and my other stories. RL and a back injury have made it tough to spend much time writing for quite a while. I'm back to it and have almost finished _Blind_. I'll update again soon. I should note that I began this story over a year ago, so it's now **AU** to the series.

Blind, Chapter 10

-----

Fin felt the sheet covering his chest shift, exposing his bare skin to the chill of the air-conditioned room. Something about that seemed… off. The small window unit in his apartment seldom managed to overcome the stifling heat of autumn in New York. Rolling to his side, he instinctively moved into the warmth cast by the soft body sleeping beside him. The fact that his bed wasn't empty for the first time in longer than he could remember… longer than it had been at any time since he moved into his first place while attending Brooklyn College, pulled him the rest of the way to wakefulness.

A single shaft of light from a nearby window fell across Olivia's face. Without conscious thought, his hand reached out to gently ease a lock of soft brown hair away from her eyes. He found himself captivated by the hint of a smile that had clung to her lips even as she slept. He had always thought her beautiful. In the filtered light of early morning, she was breathtaking.

The night before had been a revelation. He had dreamed of the moment he could finally admit his feelings for his friend… his partner. Reality, for once, was better than fantasy. That unprecedented fact made what happened all the more remarkable… dreams just didn't come true in his experience.

After their confessions in the car during the ride down, they had finally calmed enough to finish the trip. Deciding they wanted something a little bit special… at least more special than the budget airport motels the NYPD normally funded, they had found a hotel near the ocean, one with a modest ocean view. Atlantic City's economy relied on luring gamblers to the casinos, so hotels tended to keep the rates low in hopes of filling the tables with patrons. The one they had chosen had been nice enough without blowing either of their perennially tight budgets… romance was important, but cops didn't get paid enough for extravagance. Besides, they couldn't turn in an expense report with only one room.

Neither the room nor the view would have made a travel guide's list of must sees, but, under the circumstances, he hadn't been paying much attention to the décor. Fin had only had eyes for the beautiful woman that had walked into his arms as soon as he had closed the door behind them. All they had really needed was a room far from the interested gaze of their colleagues, a strong lock to keep out the rest of the world, and a king sized bed.

They had talked… a little… enough for them to feel comfortable with the commitment they were making to each other. This one was serious for both of them… something they wanted to nurture in hopes of making it last for the rest of their lives. They both knew they had a lot riding on their ability to juggle the demands of a new relationship with the demands of their job. They owed it to the rest of their unit not to screw this up almost as much as they owed it to themselves.

That said, the rest of the night had been a blur of passion… a passion long denied. Their first time had been wild and untamed. In retrospect, anything else would have been a disappointment. Liv had wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had never known another time when the level of desire between him and his lover had been so equal… so balanced. That seemed to bode well for their chances of making their relationship work.

/My lover,/ he silently mused. /Seems I've wanted this forever… not only to be able to say it… but mean it. Damn! Who knew it could be this amazing to say something so simple… my lover!/

To his annoyance, his stomach grumbled. They had skipped dinner the night before… food hadn't seemed all that important in the grand scheme of things. Now, he had to grudgingly admit he was starving. A quick glace at the bedside clock confirmed it was getting late. They had work to do… but the next day was Saturday. They could sleep as late as they wanted.

/Well… sleep some,/ he thought, a smirk lighting his handsome face. /At least more than we did last night!/

"Do you always wake up looking so smug?"

The smirk deepened as he watched her deep brown eyes drift the rest of the way open to meet his. Bending to catch her lips in a lingering 'good-morning' kiss, he whispered against hers, "Naw, baby… only mornings when I wake up next to the most beautiful woman in the world."

Feeling her slender arms slip over his shoulders, Fin took another quick look at the digital clock on the bedside table. Deciding a quick cup of coffee and a danish from the corner bodega would get him through to lunch… and still allow them to 'be to work on time', he let her pull him down into her arms.

/Hell, food is overrated most of the time anyway…./

-----

Tapping on Cragen's office door, John stuck his head inside. "Got a sec, Cap? I need to update you on a possible complication to the Hellman case."

Looking up from the stack of files in front of him, Don motioned to the chair across from his desk. "What now? This case seems to have nothing but complications."

"True," John agreed, gratefully sinking into the hard chair. He had been up late into the night tracking down as much information as he could on Richard Welch. That search had led to his early arrival at the precinct that morning as he tried to fill in the gaps… some of them dealing with Samantha herself.

What he had found had taken him by surprise, a rarity after over 25 years as a cop. He knew it was the type of information that the defendants' lawyers could use to damage Sam's credibility. She didn't deserve for that to happen, but he had been around too many blocks to doubt that it could play out that way.

"Samantha Dunbar has a history of domestic abuse… a real bastard of an ex-husband," he began. "Dunbar doesn't appear to be her real name… she started using it after she moved here. Her real name is Eva Byrne Welch. We've been assuming the difference in surnames with her brother meant she was still using her ex's name."

Reaching up to massage his neck, Cragen demanded, "How did you find that out?"

Handing Cragen a file containing the copies of several documents he had uncovered, including several news articles with pictures of Sam and her ex, John began. "I stopped by last night to see if she was up to giving a statement. Still need to do that by the way… that's my top priority this morning if she's up to it. Anyway, she mentioned she didn't want her ex to have access to her room at the hospital. She was obviously terrified of him. I handled that… then went home and began to see what I could find out about him. His name is Richard Welch, so the discrepancies in names jumped out at me immediately."

Frowning, Cragen prompted, "And?"

"Welch is well connected to the DC power structure… a real insider's insider," Munch began. "The DC Police have a file several inches thick on him… assault, breaking and entering… stalking allegations filed by Sam and several other women, including his current wife. He even has a couple of rape investigations in his jacket, but, one way or another, they all 'went away' and the son-of-a-bitch walked."

"Were the cases weak?"

Shaking his head, John offered, "Not from what I got from the detective I spoke with at DC's SVU. According to… Det. Ross Parrise, the evidence had a way of disappearing before trial… medical records and personnel became sketchy on the pertinent details… that sort of thing. Apparently, his old man was wired into every corner of the capital… could make or break careers. Add to that, the Welch family is loaded. It's not hard to see the vics never had a chance."

"And Samantha Dunbar was one of his vics?" Cragen summarized.

Raking a weary hand though his hair, John nodded. "His favorite victim from what I've found so far. She was a promising young attorney with a law firm that specialized in environmental issues… was on the fast track for a partnership when she met the bastard. The firm where she now works… ESP, must know more than they've told us. Unless they didn't do a background check, someone had to know she was using an alias. I can't imagine they didn't ask for a copy of her license to practice law in New York State at the very least. The other option is she used phony documents to establish her bona fides."

"So, she gave a false name when she was arrested following the demonstration this summer and may have lied to her employer to get her job," Don observed. "Great! That will help her credibility as a witness!"

Nodding, John agreed. "Yeah, but… from what little she told me last night, she probably didn't have much choice if she wanted to escape from Welch. The last time he broke into her apartment, he beat and raped her… found her personal information and cleaned out her bank accounts. Parrise confirmed what little she told me about that incident. The way the violence was escalating, he would have killed her eventually. We've both seen the pattern too many times not to appreciate what she was up against."

"Yeah, but it makes her vulnerable on cross… plus her history of abuse could be twisted to suggest she overreached to what was happening. That will be a tough sell, but we've both seen the crap lawyers can unload on a jury," Don murmured, disgust at that fact evident in his tone. "Since none of the charges against her ex resulted in a conviction, the defense could tear her apart on the stand saying she's unstable and a compulsive liar… anything to sling mud on our case."

"Yeah," John agreed. "It could get ugly for her."

"What else did you find out about her?" Cragen prompted.

Sighing, John admitted, "Nothing that helps. Once she married Welch, her career went into reverse… clients began to drop her under pressure from the old man… apparently, sonny-boy wanted her to stay home under his thumb, so the job had to go. The loss of clients was accompanied by frequent absences from work due to 'accidents' in the home, reports of domestic disturbances called in by neighbors… you know the pattern. Within two years, she was out of a job and blackballed at other firms."

"Blackballed?" Don repeated. "They were that blatant?"

"No finesse necessary from what Parrise told me… no need for it," John confirmed. "Once word made the rounds the Welch family didn't want her working… preferred having their women play a more traditional role in the home, doors closed in her face. Friendships dried up and she soon found herself isolated and completely at Welch's mercy."

"Why didn't she leave… she had a law degree after all? She could have gone to another city and started over years ago. Why wait so long to make a break?" Don demanded.

Sighing, John supplied, "She did try, but he always managed to track her down. What money she had, he managed to steal with the aid of his accountants, so it was hard for her to get very far. Parrise said he tried to get him for kidnap twice… he almost lost his job each time… was demoted the second time."

"As for Sam," he continued, "she made it as far as LA seven years ago … she was pregnant at the time. She had already lost three babies from miscarriages. Welch found her two months later… literally snatched her off the street, drugged her to keep her quiet, then tossed her in his private jet for a one-way trip back to her private hell. She had a fourth miscarriage the day after he got her back… a maid found her passed out on the floor of the bedroom in a pool of blood and called an ambulance."

"Damn!"

"Yeah… it gets worse," John inserted. "Welch apparently was allowed to check her out of the hospital while she was still in the recovery room following a dnc… wasn't even lucid from the meds they had given her. He literally waltzed in and carried her out still in her hospital gown… pulled the iv's out of her arm while the staff watched and did nothing."

Noting the anger building on his captain's face, he hurried to finish his report. "A neighbor saw him carrying her into the elevator at their downtown address. She could see Sam was bleeding heavily from post-surgical complications and called for help… probably saved her life. Sam almost hemorrhaged to death."

"He got away with that?"

"And then some," John confirmed. "The neighbor… Toni Collins, pitched a fit and threatened to go to the press if he wasn't charged. She was found a week later raped and beaten behind a dumpster in the 'burbs. Eyewitnesses to her abduction all ID'ed Welch as the one that grabbed her, but their memories deserted them at trial… plus the rape kit went missing along with most of the other physical evidence that proved he was her rapist."

"Top it off, Ms. Collins suffered serious brain trauma from the beating. Welch's lawyer made mincemeat out of her on the stand," John reported. "Anna Simpson, the maid that called for the ambulance, was fired… apparently she was supposed to ask for permission to call 911. Her car was found down an embankment next to the southbound lanes of I-95 just north of Richmond a month later. Car had been torched, no evidence or clues of who was responsible."

"What happened to her?"

Sighing, John admitted, "No one knows. Anna was last seen in a McDonald's parking lot, talking to a man fitting Welch's description. She's still missing… no body has ever been found. Sensing a pattern here, Cap?"

"Who are these people?" Cragen demanded, appalled by the information his detective was giving him.

"Apparently, the Welch family-tree is more a series of corporate mergers… fortunes made in various defense, energy, and mining interests. They've known where all the bodies were buried since at least the Korean War," Much summarized. "Welch Senior is on the board of a dozen major corporations… sits on the board of a number of philanthropic organizations, and has had the direct line to every president and cabinet secretary for the last twenty-five years. Until Junior began to make them fodder for the gossips, the family made a practice of keeping a very low profile. You had to be an insider's insider to know them."

Holding Munch's gaze, Don asked, "And Junior has been a popular topic of the gossips?"

"Insider gossip for the most part," John hedged. "Daddy had the pull to keep most of his indiscretions out of the press. Parisse said Welch's file is full of one incident after the other. The Collins case is the only one that made a ripple… and barely that. Coverage was almost nonexistent. Sam was in trouble the second he set eyes on her and nobody warned her. No wonder she says she's all alone… she has been for most of the last fourteen years."

"Doesn't she have a brother?"

A frown proceeded, "In name at least. Younger brother is a Major in the Air Force. His career wasn't going anywhere until after Sam's marriage to Welch. Matthew Byrne suddenly had all the right stuff… influential supporters, marriage to the daughter of his base commander… prestigious postings."

"I'm not going to like where this goes am I?"

"Sorry, no," John agreed. "His career's been in a nosedive ever since Sam's divorce from Welch became final. Both he and his wife blame his problems on Sam…seem to think she owed it to them to remain Welch's punching bag. He's been in Iraq since the war began… likely to stay there a while longer. Parrise thinks it's a 50-50 toss-up whether he'll support his sister or sell her out to Welch hoping to regain his favor."

"So, how did Sam manage to get Welch to agree to the divorce?"

"She was unable to have children after the last miscarriage… more likely after the second round of surgery she needed after his stunt in the recovery room," John replied, a lethal anger gleaming in his dark eyes. "Senior wanted an heir, so Sam had to be replaced. She's just lucky she got to leave on her own two feet and not in a body bag. He strung out the divorce for several years until one of his girlfriends got pregnant. The not so lucky winner of the title Welch Broodmare hasn't fared much better than Sam… even after she's spit out 2 ½ kids in just over three years… two boys. A baby girl was stillborn last month after Carol Welch suffered an 'accidental' fall down the stairs."

"How much of this did Sam tell you?"

Flipping his note pad shut, John admitted, "Not much. She sanitized the story a lot. I've heard the lies abused women tell too many times not to recognize the signs when I hear them. She's still coming to terms with what that bastard did to her and… frankly, I'm not sure she can handle a trial, especially if this all comes out. We both know it's doubtful her past will remain hidden once the defendants' lawyers start poking around."

Sighing, Cragen slumped back in his chair. "Yeah… we've both seen what money can buy. Talk to Casey and update her. She needs to be ready if they decide to go for a preemptive strike and leak the stories to the press. Does Welch Senior's power stretch to New York?"

"It did until recently, but he had a stroke two days after his daughter-in-law lost the baby," John supplied. "Since then, he's been in a vegetated state and the family's powerbase has rapidly begun to erode. Junior doesn't have the standing or the personality to command much respect. Parrise gleefully predicted his days of skating out of trouble may be at an end. If that's the case, it's doubtful he can control the media like his father."

"I'm not sure which is worse… but the situation is what it is," Cragen concluded, resigned to the fact that some things would always be outside of their control. "Where are we on finding the Alvarez girl?"

"Casey left a message that she has a meeting scheduled with the Embassy's legal counsel after lunch today thanks to the intervention the US Embassy in Honduras," John replied. "She said she'd like one of us to go with her to the meeting."

"Elliot is on his way to interview Martin Danvers, so he will be out of the office until this afternoon," Cragen mused. "If you're not back from interviewing Samantha Dunbar, I guess it will be me. If she gets the TRO lifted… the Federal one is the last one, right? OK, I'll give you a call and get you to run by the school for the records. We need to see what they are trying so hard to hide A'sap."

-----

Fin traded a look with Olivia, mentally scolding himself to school his features to the normal stoic façade he wore like a mask. /Damn, Fin… you have a reputation to maintain! Munch will have way too much fun if you don't get a handle on this shit!/

"I can't get over this… you're actually smiling… smiling out in broad daylight for God and everyone to see," Liv teased, the smug smile of a woman that knows she's the cause of his exceptional mood lighting her face. "I've known you almost eight years and I've seen you smile more this morning than I have in all that time combined."

Rolling his eyes at her teasing, he tried to change the topic. Pointing to the address on a nondescript white mailbox, he observed, "That's the address we got for Cambiati and his wife. Ready to get at it?"

The wicked twinkle in her eyes caused him to abandon his attempts to wipe the smile off of his face. "Yes, I am… but you made me get out of bed and go to work anyway… spoilsport."

Chuckling, Fin guided their car into a space half-a-block down the street from a small cottage tucked in the middle of a cluster of similar homes a few blocks off of the ocean. Leaning over to claim her lips in a quick kiss, he retorted, "Behave. We've got work to do or Cragen is going to want to know what we've been up to. We need to interview these folks and get back to the City by a decent hour. Personally, I'd prefer not to have to explain why we didn't check out of the motel until after 9:30… so keep it up and that's going to be just what we have to do."

Stroking his cheek, she grinned. "I seem to remember you were the one to suggest it would save time if we shared a shower. Not my fault we got distracted."

"And I seem to remember you were the one that got a little carried away with that sponge," he pointed out, cutting off her response with a second, deeper kiss.

Breaking the kiss before it could get out of control, he urged, "We need to focus or Cap will never let us go out in the field together again. He'll think we might get up to something."

"And we might," she observed, pleased to note he was just a breathless as she was. "OK, OK… work now, but you're all mine this weekend. Deal?"

Against her lips, he whispered, "All yours, baby. And, you're all mine."

-----

The man that opened the door in response to their knock looked a lot older than the picture they had seen in the DMV records. Michael Cambiati was a tall, thin man with a heavy dose of grey at both temples. The grey stood out in stark contrast to the thick blue-black mane of hair that brushed past his shoulders. Narrow green eyes flicked nervously between their badges and their faces, his hand griping the door frame so tightly his knuckles glowed white against the deep tan he had acquired during a summer spent living on the beach.

"Yes, what can I do for you, officers?"

Fin glanced over at Liv to see if she was getting the same vibe off of Cambiati as he was… the man was barely containing his panic, his fear palatable. "We need to talk to you about your former employers, the Phelps."

Clutching at the door a little tighter, he refused to meet either detective's eyes as he offered, "Not much I can tell you, detective. I was their butler for several years, but I hardly knew them. The Phelps aren't the type to talk to the help beyond giving orders and demanding something be done immediately… blaming someone if things aren't done to their satisfaction. Beyond that…"

Tilting her head to look around Cambiati into the living room of the cottage, Olivia made note of several pieces of luggage a few feet away. "Can we come in, Mr. Cambiati? My partner and I have a number of questions we believe you can help us with. We promise not to take too much of your time."

Shifting nervously, the man shook his head. "Now isn't really convenient. My wife and I are running late. We're leaving town for a few weeks to visit friends out west and our plane leaves at noon. We'll give you a call when we get…"

Breaking into the excuse, Fin interjected, "We can do this the easy way, a nice friendly chat here in your home or we can do this the hard way… a call to the Atlantic City Police with a request they honor an extradition order to send you back to New York as a material witness. Now which is it?"

Blustering, Cambiati retorted, "You can't come into my house and start issuing threats. You're out of your jurisdiction and…"

"Our boss already called here to alert the local PD we were paying you a visit," Fin concluded. "Now… easy or hard?"

A voice from behind Cambiati insisted, "There's nothing my husband can tell you." A petite woman with short blonde hair appeared at her husband's side. "Mike had to sign a legal document before he went to work for the Phelps that promised he wouldn't discuss anything he heard while working there with anyone. That means…"

"It means he can't sell his story to _The Enquirer_," Olivia countered. "This is a police investigation. Confidentiality agreements aren't binding in criminal matters. Now, like my partner said… hard or easy?"

"I don't know what it is you think I know," Cambiati began, "but I left the Phelps' employee several months ago. I haven't seen any of them since. I hardly…"

"We know what happened in the spring, Mr. Cambiati," Olivia challenged. "We're here to discuss Rosa Alvarez."

All color drained from the couples faces as they stared in horror at the two detectives. "How…"

Before he could complete his question, Cambiati's eyes widened in shock… then, he slumped to the floor. A pool of blood quickly saturated the white carpet as a gapping wound in his neck began to gush. A second bullet smashed the glass on the front of a small curio cabinet near the door as Fin and Olivia hit the floor, pulling a screaming Hope Cambiati with them. A third shot…

-----


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Blind, Chapter 11

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 11

"Fin… are you hit?"

Rolling into a crouch, his gun clutched in his hands, Fin shook his head. "No, I'm fine, baby. You?"

"I'm OK," she replied, taking position on the other side of the entry as they eased the wounded man out of the way so they could close the door. Finding a pulse, she ripped off her jacket and pressed it against the wound in his neck as hard as she dared. "Cambiati is still alive… looks like the bullet missed the carotid artery. He'd have died instantly if it had."

Looking over as Fin helped Hope Cambiati to her knees so she could crawl to her husband's side, she noted for the countless time how gentle he could be when the situation allowed it. In a no-nonsense voice that commanded an answer, he asked, "Hope… look at me. Are you hit?"

Seeing her shake her head, he turned to meet Liv's gaze. "Liv… call it in while I see if I can get a read on the shooter. I'm going out the side door."

Biting back the urge to grab him and keep him inside the house where he would be safe… a lover's desire to protect him warring with the instincts of a cop, she nodded. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed 911. "This is Det. Olivia Benson, NYPD. There has been a shooting at the home of Michael and Hope Cambiati, 6568 W. Conch Lane. We need an ambulance… we have wounded. Repeat… we have a wounded man with a gunshot wound to his neck. It's bleeding heavily. We need a bus."

Checking his pulse, she continued her one-sided conversation with the emergency dispatcher. "The shooting victim is Michael Cambiati. I've got light pressure on the wound, but he's lost a lot of blood. His pulse is weak and erratic."

Hearing the squeal of tires, she rose to her knees and looked through the front window to see what was happening. Fin appeared from behind a hedgerow near the sidewalk and ran into the street, looking north toward a fleeing yellow van. "Yes, Det. Olivia Benson, NYPD… Manhattan Special Victims Unit. We're here to interview the Cambiatis as possible witnesses in one of our cases."

"Yes, AC was alerted we were coming… our Captain made the call late yesterday."

"My partner is Det. Fin Tutuola. He's outside trying to get a read on who shot Cambiati, so warn the responders he's out there and is armed."

Looking over at the dazed woman crumpled across from her, the wounded man's hand clenched in a tight hold, she ordered, "Hope… grab that throw off that chair and cover him. We need to keep from going into shock."

Replying to a question from the 911 dispatcher, she bit out, "We don't know who shot him… shots came from over our shoulders. We had just arrived and were talking at the front door. Get us a bus! Cambiati's bleeding and my partner is out there… Wait… cancel the last part. He's coming back inside. Hold while I see if he can add anything to my report."

Fin slipped back through the door and knelt at her side. Taking her place holding the jacket to the wound, he reported, "Shooters were in a delivery van… the yellow ones. It was parked down the street… remember seeing it when we walked up. That means they were watching the place since before we got here. I made two men… one in the front driver's seat and the other kneeling in the back… both white. Looked like the one in the back was the shooter… he had long light brown or dark blond hair. I caught the fleet number on the bumper… NJ-39. Van had Jersey tags, but I only got a partial… 84R."

After relaying the information to the dispatcher, Olivia ended the call and moved over to crouch by the other woman. "Mrs. Cambiati… an ambulance is on the way for your husband. You don't appear to be hurt, but I need to be sure."

Frantic blue eyes fixed on her face. Hands covered in her husband's blood lifted to rake through her blond hair, leaving a trail of crimson in the pale strands. "Michael…"

"Is still alive," Olivia soothed. "Are you hurt?"

"No… just scared out of my mind," she cried. "Michael…"

"Help is on the way… you need to stay calm and focus on telling us what you know," Liv instructed. "Do you know who might have done this? Why were you leaving town?"

"We saw the late news Tuesday. We called a friend that still works… We were scared he might want us out of the way… that it would all come out," Hope whispered. "He'd do anything to protect that animal. Mike said we needed to hide out until things settled down…"

"Until what settles down, Mrs. Cambiati? Who is 'he'? Do you know who was behind the shooting?" Olivia pressed, instantly recognizing the significance of what news they would have heard Tuesday night. The press had been all over the Park and the hospital in time for the late news.

"Phelps… Andrew Phelps," she murmured. "We should have moved further away when we left New York… but we always planned to retire to Atlantic City… it was our dream."

"OK, that's good," Liv coached. "Why were you scared? Why would Andrew Phelps want you out of the way?"

Tears began to pour down her pale cheeks as she admitted, "We knew it was only a matter of time before… should have gone further away… hidden from the start."

"What was only a matter of time, Hope?" Olivia pressed, hoping to keep her talking. "Why did you leave the City?"

"Mike and I had to get out of there… I was afraid of him," she admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to her husband's forehead. "Mike… Mike, don't you dare leave me, baby!"

"Who were you afraid of, Hope? Did Andrew Phelps threaten you?"

"He cornered me… tried to…"

Flicking her eyes up to briefly meet Fin's, Olivia could hear the sound of approaching sirens. She needed to get Hope to talk before they were interrupted by the Atlantic City Police. "Do you mean Andrew Phelps cornered you? What did he try? Tell me!"

"No, not him!" she cried. "I was so scared! He grew a lot over the last year! He tried to put his hands…"

"Who, Hope?"

"I know he's just a kid, but… he almost killed Rosa! Mike got there in time to save her, but… it was bad," Hope offered, her voice low and trembling. "Mike made a copy of the tape from the security camera before Mr. Phelps could destroy it. It showed…"

Hearing cars pulling into the yard in front of the small house… the police had arrived, Olivia demanded, "Showed what? Who are you talking about? Tell me… NOW!"

"Steven… he raped and tortured that poor little baby!"

-----

"OK, Fin," Cragen responded. "Do I need to join you and Olivia on the scene? Sounds like the AC police want to try to jam the two of you up over the shooting."

"I'll leave it to the two of you for now, but I'm making a few calls to my contacts down there," the veteran officer replied to Tutuola's assurances they had the situation in hand. "Keep me posted with regular updates until you're both back on our turf. You and Liv play this by the book, but I don't expect you to take any unwarranted crap. Got that?"

"Fine," he agreed, looking up to meet Casey Novak's worried gaze as the young attorney entered his office. "What's the latest on Cambiati?"

Sighing, Cragen offered, "Miracle he made it to the hospital with a wound like that. If he makes it through surgery, camp out at his bedside and get his statement. Have Liv get Hope Cambiati's comments on the record. I want that tape and I want it yesterday."

"Well, counselor, this case is beginning to feel like a rabbit-hole… the deeper we dig, the deeper it goes," Cragen complained as he hung up the phone. "If you don't mind, take a seat while I call Elliot and John. I want to let them know Liv and Fin are OK before they hear about the shooting. I'll give you an update after that… though I expect one or both will ask most of the questions you have."

"They're both OK?" she pressed, clutching the back of the offered chair.

"Yeah, but it was way too close for my peace of mind," he confirmed, looking up to meet her gaze. "The shot that got Cambiati came over Fin's shoulder, so a fraction of an inch… a sudden movement on his part… Way too close!"

"You might want to call John first and get him to make sure the security around Samantha Dunbar and Lucy Hellman is alerted to the shooting," Casey suggested. "John's paranoia seems to be warranted this time and we need to make sure the bases are covered. Elliot had better do the same for Martin Danvers. Phelps is playing hardball."

"And then some… if he's the one behind the attempt on Cambiati," Cragen agreed, dialing Munch's cell number. "Fin said it looked like the shooters were staking out the house from down the street. He and Liv saw the van as they walked up, but a delivery van in a residential neighborhood isn't something that sets off warning signals. He was kicking himself for not paying more attention to it, but it wasn't something that would stand out… no doubt the reason the shooters choose it."

"Probably," she agreed. "That means they were in place and would have shot the Cambiatis when they left the house. Fin and Liv probably saved at least her life by showing up when they did."

"Good point."

"Cambiati is in surgery?" she prompted. "Do the doctors think he will make it?"

"Too soon to tell… he lost a lot of blood," Cragen answered, frowning as his call went to John's voicemail. Leaving a quick message instructing the detective to call A'sap, he broke the connection and dialed Elliot's number.

"Do we have any proof that Phelps is behind the shooting?" the attorney questioned, settling back into the chair across from Cragen.

"Not yet, but Olivia questioned Hope Cambiati while they waited for the ambulance… got a lot out of her," he admitted, waiting for Elliot to answer. "Hopefully, she can keep her talking. You may need to get them a warrant to search the Cambiati house… depends on what AC does with the crime scene. I doubt they were careless enough to keep it there, but we have to rule it out. Maybe a search of the house will lead us to where they hid it… safety deposit box or something."

Frowning slightly, she asked, "What are they looking for? You haven't said."

A grim look proceeded, "Cambiati has a tape from that shows the attack on Rosa Alvarez. He made a copy from the Phelp's in-home security system. Liv got his wife talking while they were waiting on the bus. She told…"

Breaking off as his detective answered his call, Cragen began, "Elliot. If you're driving, pull over. I need to update you…"

-----

John flipped his cell phone shut after talking to his captain. /Great! This just keeps getting worse./

Turning away from the queue waiting for the elevator, he went in search of the hospital's head of security, a man named Dan Ogilvy. Taking Sam Dunbar's statement would have to wait for a little longer. Plugging any potential holes in the security around their vics was top priority.

-----

"… I turned in time… to see… Steve coming at me… knife."

Looking up from his notepad, Elliot prompted, "What happened next, Martin?"

Struggling to stay focused, the injured young man offered, "Grabbed at his arm. Too late to stop him. Felt… knife. Hurt like hell. I'm… still bigger, so knocked him… to the ground. Turned… Lucy…"

"OK, you're doing great," Elliot encouraged, noting that the young man was rapidly losing his strength. "Steven was on the ground. What about Lucy?"

Martin Danvers paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "She… the woman … they had gotten away. Followed them… needed to make sure Lucy… safe. Lost them at a creek. I looked, but… hazy after that. Started home… needed Dad… help me find them. Don't remember much… after that."

Reaching over to pat the young man's shoulder, Elliot ended the interview. "That's all I need for now, Martin. You did great. Rest and get better."

Bleary green eyes met his. "Lucy… is she… OK?"

"Yeah, she is… broken leg and a lot of bruises, but she'll be fine," Elliot promised. "She'll probably get to go home in a few days."

Nodding faintly, he murmured, "Tell her… sorry. Thought I could stop them. Should have… sorry."

"I'll tell her," the SVU detective promised. "You did the right thing and tried to help her… you probably saved her life by disrupting their plans, so relax and get better. You did great."

Moving toward the door of the room, Elliot was greeted by Jack Danvers. "May I have a moment of your time, Det. Stabler?"

"Of course."

Following the man into the small waiting room they had used for their first interview, Elliot offered, "I spoke with the security chief for the hospital and asked him to restrict access to Martin to you and your wife. We have reason to believe you were justified to worry about your son's safety."

"I was informed of your request, Det.," Danvers supplied. "That was the primary reason I asked to speak with you. What has happened that lead you to this conclusion?"

Meeting his companion's intense gaze, he reported, "An attempt was made on the life of Michael Cambiati this morning. He's in surgery at a hospital in Atlantic City with a gunshot wound to his neck."

Frowning, Danvers repeated, "Michael Cambiati… I know that name, but… who is he?"

"Until this past spring, he was the head butler at the Phelps' home," Elliot provided. "Det. Tutuola and another of our partners were literally at their front door to interview him and his wife when he was shot. Preliminary reports suggest it was a hired hit."

"My God!"

Nodding, Elliot asked, "Do you have any information that might help us in finding the perpetrators responsible for that incident?"

"I have no doubts Andrew is behind it, but I have can't think of anything that might help you prove that. I have no idea of how one goes about hiring a killer to 'hit' someone," Danvers asserted. "Professional assassins are a little outside of my frame of reference."

"I didn't mean to imply that," Elliot corrected. "What I was asking was do you know of anything that might help us connect your brother-in-law to the shooters… assuming he is even involved?"

"No need to equivocate, Det. Stabler," Danvers urged. "I have never had any delusions about Andrew's… morals. I tried to talk Martha out of marrying the bastard. We all grew up together and I am quite fond of my sister-in-law. None of us could understand what she ever saw in him… he was a cold, selfish bastard even as a youth. Their marriage has been in trouble for some time, but… Martha isn't the type to invite scandal, so a divorce would be her very last resort."

"Is Andrew Phelps violent?"

"Andrew has a vile temper, but he is more the type to wound with words than fists," Danvers observed. "We've never gotten along, even as children. He has abused Martha and the boys verbally for years, but he has never been violent… at least not in our presence. My wife has always been close to her sister and she has never seen anything to suggest he was in private either."

"I need to be sure of what you mean when you say he abused his family for years," Elliot pressed.

"Andrew is a cruel, selfish man, detective. He ignores his family for weeks on end… when he finally spends time with them, he seems to delight in belittling their accomplishments, mocking their every comment," Danvers offered, staring off into space. "He has an unfailing ability to know a person's weaknesses… to use those against them, inflicting as much damage as he can in the process."

"Does that include his family?"

"Sadly, yes. I… my brother-in-law and I have had words over his conduct for years, but he likes to pretend he is 'making men' out of the boys," Danvers added. "My father-in-law turns a blind eye to his behavior. Andrew fathered two grandsons for him, so Saul ignores anything that doesn't fit in with his plans. Saul has two remarkable daughters, but he never appreciated them… seems to blame them for not being sons. Our relationship with him is… strained to say the least."

"You said you and your family haven't seen the Phelps in months," Elliot began. "Do you know what's been happening since then?"

"No… not really. My wife and I suspected things were getting worse. Steven was always difficult to handle, but Andrew had begun to encourage his aggression," he recalled. "Both boys needed more stability and discipline… we finally woke up to the fact Martin was going down the same path with them. We've been urging Martha to leave him for years, but there is very little we could do to help her until she is ready to take charge of her own life. We would have supported her, but… after the incident in the spring, she hasn't even had that. My wife and I are second-guessing every decision we have made for the last few years as you might expect."

"You had to put your son's best interests ahead of them," Elliot offered. "You said you didn't have any delusions about your brother-in-laws' morals, Mr. Danvers. That seems to imply you questioned more than his temper."

A bitter grimace twisted Jack Danvers' patrician features. "Where would you have me begin, Detective? Andrew is a brilliant… cold and mercurial, but brilliant. He is utterly self-absorbed… he wants what he wants when he wants it, to hell with the rest of us."

"And that means?"

"It's rather cliché to say he likes fast cars and fast women, but it's sadly true in his case. I understand his latest is a young Russian girl. Rumor has it he purchased her a condo on the Upper West Side earlier this year. If the gossip is true, she has a very colorful past. It would also fit with the other rumors about Andrew that have been going around the last few years."

"And those are?"

Inhaling a deep breath, Danvers slowly let the breath go as he studied Elliot closely. After a moment, he offered, "He is rumored to be involved with less than reputable business associates."

Looking up from his notes, Elliot pressed, "What… the Mob?"

"His mistress is reputed to be connected to Russian organized crime, but… I have never met her… no one that I knew has. Everything I have is third or fourth hand at best," he admitted. "It may be a waste of time, but it was the first thing that occurred to me when you asked."

"We'll check it out," Elliot agreed. "Do you know her name?"

"Galina… Selina maybe," he replied. "I can make a few calls if it would help."

"It would," Elliot replied. "You mentioned other stories… did they involve the Russian Mob too?"

Sighing, Danvers raked his hand through his hair. "Perhaps. Andrew has been involved in a number of high-risk ventures over the years, including a real estate development in Dubai… one of those man-made islands on the coast I believe. He inherited a sizable fortune at his father's death, but he has added to it significantly in recent years."

"Do you have any business dealings with your brother-in-law?"

Moving to stare out of the window overlooking a small interior courtyard, Danvers shook his head. "No. Not long after he married Martha, he offered me a chance to invest in one of his ventures, but my accountants advised against it… under-capitalized and a shaky market. He went ahead on his own and made a bundle in the venture… gloated about it for years."

"Since then, he has never invited me to join him in any of his other projects," he concluded. "I have heard rumors he was a principle player in a project out west that went sour… left a lot of smaller investors on the hook for the debt, but my father-in-law insisted Andrew was one of those duped by the developers… that he lost everything he had in the venture. The rumors about particular deal were rather unsavory. The most salacious had him in bed with the Mob… that they used his established connections to hide their dirty money."

"Is it possible your father-in-law has invested with him?"

"Yes, I believe he has, but I have no idea in which ventures or how much money is involved," he admitted. "Andrew has money, power… possibly access to questionable interests, Det. As I said before, none of us can risk underestimating what he might do to save his sons."

-----

"Hi. Where are you?"

"You know I can't tell you that, so don't bother to ask," a steely male voice replied. "Why are you calling?"

A long-suffering sigh proceeded, "Have you been watching the news this week… seen the story about the attack on the girl in Central Park in New York City?"

"Yeah," came the reply, suspicion dripping from his tone. "Why do you ask?"

"She was rescued by a jogger…"

"I saw that," he growled. "Your point?"

"The joggers name is Samantha Dunbar."

"Shit!!!"

-----


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Blind, Chapter 12

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 12

"Hi Sam. How are you feeling this morning?"

Her head shifted slightly as she instinctively tried to look in the direction of her visitor. The bandages covering her eyes made that impossible. It also frightened her.

"John? Is that you?" she whispered, her anxiety clear.

Puzzled by her reaction… she hadn't shown any unease with his company the other times he had visited her, he quickly answered. "Yeah, Sam. I'm sorry… I didn't mean to startle you."

"I guess its… delayed shock," Sam murmured. "Everything seems to startle me today. I think they're cutting back on the pain medicine. I'm thinking a lot clearer today. I remember bits and pieces of the last few days, but… A lot of it is a blur."

Moving closer to the bed, he soothed, "That's not surprising… you've been though a lot. Do you feel up to talking?"

"About… what happened?" she asked, her good hand plucking at the blanket covering her. "You need my statement for the record."

"Yeah," John agreed, cautiously reaching out to lay a comforting hand on her arm. He felt her jerk slightly, but she made no move to pull away. "Are you up to talking… it may take a while?"

Taking as deep a breath as she could manage without causing her broken ribs to shift too much, Sam nodded. "I'd like to get it behind me, so I'll try."

Pulling the chair he had used during his other visits a little closer to her bed, John flipped open his pad to make notes. "For the record, I need you to state your full name and address."

He did not miss the way her body had stiffened at his question. "I didn't imagine it then… we talked about Richard."

"Yes."

"For the record, my name is Samantha Marie Dunbar, Det.," she affirmed, the tension still visibly gripping her frame. "I had it legally changed last year. A friend of mine from law school helped me… she's a judge in a rural part of Nevada, took care of the paperwork. It was as close to untraceable as we could make it."

"So, you left Eva in DC and became Samantha," he repeated.

"Sam was my dad's name... Marie was my mom's," she supplied, her voice cracking with emotion. "I left Eva behind, but they had to come with me."

"Dunbar?"

"My friend, the judge… it was her maiden name," Sam replied.

"Does your employer… ESP, know?" he asked.

"I'm a legal consultant working for ESP, but I'm not actually their employee," she hedged. "Nobody at the New York office knows anything other than that I'm Sam Dunbar. Another friend owns a law firm with offices in the Islands, so they have an off-shore address and bank accounts. I work for that firm as ESP's attorney… effectively an exclusive retainer for my services."

Frowning, John prompted, "How does that help hide you from your ex… I'm assuming that's why you've gone to this much trouble to cover you tracks? With his family's clout, can't he still trace you through your social security number?"

"My friend the judge did her best to bury the transfer of my social security number to my new name… I never asked the details, but she assured me it was all legal. Knowing her, I have no reason to doubt that," she offered. "If Richard somehow manages to find that trail, the law firm's records only have my social security number, but no record of my name. In the remote possibility he finds a way past that, my official address is a PO Box in DC and my employer has eleven offices worldwide… hundreds of clients. ESP has nineteen offices and is headquartered in Florida. We even set it up so I can pay my taxes electronically using numbers only."

Staring at her in silence for several minutes, John mentally traced and retraced the layers of her rebirth from Eva Welch to Sam Dunbar. "I… that's pretty impressive. Your friends went to a lot of trouble for you. Are you licensed to practice law in New York?"

"I passed the New York Bar exam years ago. You would have to know both of my names to connect the two. We used a bit of arcane language in state law to our advantage to hide the paperwork in plain sight." In a soft, defeated voice, she whispered, "And I undid everything by charging down that hill the other night. Not too smart was it."

"It may not be that bad," John offered. "Neither your name or your picture has appeared in the press."

"But I gave my brother as my next of kin," she reminded him. "My friends warned me that was dangerous, but… Matt and his kids are the only family I have left. I just couldn't cut the final link to my old life… and that will be all Richard needs to find me."

John paused for a second before asking, "Does you brother know… what your ex-husband did to you?"

He had to lean close to her lips to hear, "He knows."

-----

"Look… for the fourth time, we had just arrived at the Cambiati's house," Olivia repeated. "We were still on the front porch talking to them both when Mr. Cambiati fell to the floor bleeding from a gunshot to the neck. A second shot missed, hitting a cabinet behind him…"

--

"My partner and I hit the ground, pulling Mrs. Cambiati with us," Fin growled, sitting slumped at a table in an interrogation room down the hall from the one Olivia occupied. "A third shot hit the door over our heads. We drew our guns and got both of the Cambiatis into the house and closed the door…"

--

"… Det. Tutuola went out a side he door hoping to get a line on the shooter while I called 911…"

--

"… Det. Benson used her jacket to try to slow the bleeding…"

--

"… My partner saw a van pulling away from the curb from a position in front of the neighbor's house. He returned to the house and I relayed…"

--

"… Dude in the back looked to be the shooter. He closed the door to the rear of the van before I got a good look at him. He had long hair… brown or a dark blond… medium build from what I could see… no idea of height. He had a rifle in his right hand… saw it before he got the back door shut…"

--

"… We gave you the fleet number on the van and a partial license number…"

--

"… Both the driver and the shooter were white… driver had dark hair… Like I said, shooter had…"

--

"… Neither Det. Tutuola or myself fired our guns…"

--

"… Det. Benson pushed Mrs. Cambiati for info on our case… they were packing to leave town when we got there… said they had a noon flight to someplace out west and didn't want to talk…"

--

"… We both think the shooting is linked to the case we're working in New York. Mike Cambiati worked for the family of one of our suspects in the Central Park assault case…"

--

"… Word we got was they retired out of the blue earlier this year and were living large down here…"

--

"… Hope conformed part of what we suspected... that they had left the Phelps' employ with knowledge of another serious crime. She volunteered that they have a tape that shows that attack taking place. We want it…"

--

"… Little girl… a three-year old got raped and tortured on our turf. We want that tape…"

-----

Flipping his pad shut, John reached over to pat Sam's hand. "That's enough for now, Sam. You're exhausted. We'll talk more later. Rest now."

"'k," she murmured, her limited supply of energy completely spent by the emotions of their interview.

Rising to leave her to sleep, he asked, "Is there anything I can bring you this evening when I come to visit? A visit, not more questions."

"Don't have to…"

Squeezing her hand gently, he interjected, "I want to come visit you, Sam… unless you would prefer I kept our dealing strictly business. I'd understand…"

It was her turn to interrupt him. "No… I enjoy your visits… just don't want to be… burden."

"You're no burden, so relax," he soothed. "Did I tell you Megan has taken a liking to me? I think it may be my black slacks… but she seems happy to see me when I stop by to check on her."

A faint smile eased the strain on her face. "That's a… compliment. Megan… picky about… her friends. Thanks. Relief to know… she's OK."

Squeezing her hand a second time, he teased, "I'm enjoying the novelty of having a cat actually like me, so no thanks needed. Rest and I'll see you when I get off work."

"'k," she whispered.

He had started to turn toward the door when her hand reached blindly for his. "John… if Richard…"

Turning back to take her hand in a comforting grip, he promised, "Relax, Sam. We've arranged for around the clock protection for you. You have two armed policemen sitting by your door and the hospital has beefed up patrols in the halls near both you and Lucy. The list of people that can enter your room is tightly controlled. Lucy, her mother and the senior members of my squad are the only non-medical visitors allowed in here unless you approve them in advance. OK?"

Sagging she nodded. "It's just… he…"

"I spoke with my counterpart in DC," he gently reported. "Parrise told me about the incident at the hospital down there. That won't happen here; we'll protect you, OK?"

"My brother…"

"Do you want me to call the Air Force and tell them we made a mistake? I was told he was on active rotation and wouldn't be notified until tomorrow. I could probably intercept the message before he gets it," he offered.

Sighing, she nodded. "May… be for… best… for now."

"OK. Sleep and get your strength back. I'll make a call and see if I keep you brother out of the loop."

A faint nod was the only response he got as exhaustion overcame her.

-----

"Just checking in, Cap. We wasted half the day repeating ourselves, but everything's cool now," Fin reported. "Since it's the crime scene, ACPD searched the house top to bottom… tore it apart, but couldn't find the tape. They want it too since it may be the motive for the shooting. We agreed to give them a copy if we find it and they promised the same."

-----

"I got the judge's order lifted on the TRO and John is picking up the records as we speak," Casey reported, watching as Don Cragen took the seat next to her in the waiting room of the Honduran Embassy. "He made it by my office just before I had to leave for this meeting."

"You have any problems with getting it lifted?" Cragen asked, pitching his voice not to carry to the secretary eyeing them from behind an ornate desk. "Be nice to know if we'll have problems with using any leads we might find in reliance on that search."

"Not that I can see," she replied. "Langan was trying to argue the search was unconstitutional and that I lacked of a justifiable link to a request for the records. I could show where each of the students had been clearly linked to the investigation… most of them were arrested at the scene. Since they all were students at Winthrop, a school connection was obvious. The judge took two seconds to quash his prior order... it was lame at best."

"Well, that's always good to hear," he confessed. "I think we all need to get used to being buried in paperwork on this one. With seven rich defendants, you'll be slogging through the motions and filings of seven 'dream teams'"

Sighing, Casey nodded in agreement. "John also updated me on his interview with Samantha Dunbar this morning. When she's stronger, I'll need to talk with her myself and try to fill in some huge holes in her story."

Frowning, Cragen admitted, "I haven't had a chance to talk to him since he told me about her past this morning. So, she is living here using an alias?"

"Apparently not," Casey hedged. "The details are sketchy, but it seems she legally changed her name late last year in preparation for disappearing. She's legal as far as he could determine, but I have more questions about the whole thing than he had answers."

"I guess I need to make it a point to track him down and get the latest before the end of the day," Cragen observed, a long-suffering quality to the sigh that accompanied that comment. "I sent Joe Palmieri by INS for a copy of the file on the Alvarez case. A lawyer in their New York office called this morning. According to him, they are formally investigating problems with their records. He said we could have the file, but it didn't have the information we were seeking."

"Damn, I was afraid of that," she responded. "Who did you talk to?"

"Dennis Bell. You know him?"

"No… I just like to know the names of any lawyers involved in one of our cases," she supplied. "Did he give a reason for the investigation? I'm assuming they suspect the omissions are more than simple clerical error."

"He didn't volunteer much, but that was the impression I got," Cragen agreed. "These people have chutzpa to risk getting caught playing with immigration records."

"Chutzpa, arrogance, it's all the same in the end," she observed.

"I need to give the Chief of D's a call when I get back to my office," he complained. "He's breathing down my neck on this one."

Grinning, Casey nodded her head. "If it makes you feel any better, I have a 4 o'clock with Branch to update him on the case. I'm going to ask for a second chair to help me prepare for trial. Since they haven't filled the Bureau Chief's spot since Liz was appointed to the bench, he has to make a lot of the calls for our division… that or we end up working with McCoy. Generally, Jack is buried with his own caseload, so Branch handles us himself."

"It would make more sense to promote you and give you a second full-time," he observed, rising as the secretary called their names to take them back to their meeting. "You've earned the promotion."

A wicked grin lit Casey's pretty face. "Watch it Don or I'll begin to think you care!"

Forcing himself not to admire the swaying hips of the smirking ADA as she turned to follow the other women into the inner office, Don smothered the rueful grin that wanted to slip out. /Ten years ago I might have taken that as flirting not teasing… ten years ago I would probably have responded hoping it was. Too bad its not ten years ago!/

-----


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Blind, Chapter 13

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 13

John looked up from one of the files from the Winthrop Academy as Casey, Elliot, and Cragen entered the room. He had commandeered the conference table in one of the smaller interrogation rooms and had already filled several pages on his legal pad with notes. "I hope you got more out of the Hondurans than I am out of these files."

"Yeah, we did," Cragen responded. "They agreed to stash the Alvarez family in a safehouse near Tegucigalpa while we try to nail down a case against Steven for rape. If we do, they will make sure the entire family is available for trial."

"Looks like you've made a lot of notes," Elliot observed, as he and Casey began to thumb thought the files stacked in front of the detective. "What's the problem?"

Casey looked up from the file she was reading. "Is this all they gave you on Ben Phelps? From what we got out of Ms. Adams, there should have been a lot more here."

Tilting his head to meet her irritated glare over the top of his glasses, John agreed. "Call me paranoid, but I think someone got to these files and sanitized them. You said yourself the federal restraining order had no merit. It occurs to me the only purpose was to keep the files out of our hands long enough to take out anything that might hurt the little bastards."

Cragen moved over to join them at the table. "You are paranoid… but that doesn't mean you're wrong. Why do you two think they've been altered?"

Casey slid the file she was reading in his direction. "Look at the bottom of this page. The sentence isn't finished, but the next page starts a new section. In fact, the two sections are about different topics entirely. And, there's no mention of disciplinary actions, behavioral problems… none of what we got in the conversation with the headmistress the morning after the attack."

"This file… there's nothing but this kid's attendance record and his grades." Elliot inserted, before lifting angry eyes to meet John's equally irritated gaze.

"I've read through them all, Cap," John added. "They are all like that, even Steven's. Someone got to these files ahead of us and took anything of interest out before we could see it."

"I think we need to have another talk with Virginia Adams," Casey proclaimed.

Pushing to his feet, John asked, "You want us to bring her in now?

Glancing at the clock, she groaned. "Make it first thing in the morning. I'm about to be late for a meeting with Branch. I'll call her on my way and order her to provide the rest of the material in the files or face contempt charges. I'll tell her to present herself here at 9 a.m. if that works for you guys. If she fails to show, then you get to bring her in."

Frowning, John groaned. "Saturday morning… lovely!"

Sighing, Casey responded, "I know… but we need to get this case under control quickly. Besides, I want to hear her explain this crap sooner rather than later."

"Yeah, I bought into her 'helpful' act the other day," John agreed, "so I'd be happy to go get her and make sure as many people as possible saw us taking her away."

"If she fails to comply, I'll go with you," she grumbled. "I bought into her little game too."

-----

Pulling off his boots, the tall, lean man sank wearily back onto the hard surface of his cot. Major Matthew Byrne had been on duty for a triple shift, sleeping when he could on one of the cots jammed in the back of a hanger. This was the first time he had made it back to his quarters in over a week. He had been in Iraq since the first week of the war… he was exhausted and hardily sick of the conditions at the base they had established at the Bagdad Airport.

His unit provided maintenance support for the aircraft that traveled in and out of the war zone. The spate of problems with a couple of the big cargo planes supplying the war effort had been but the latest reason for extra shifts. He had worked side by side with the enlisted personnel in his unit… climbing up and down the ladders… in an out of cramped spaces to get to the problem in order to get the work done as quickly as they could. The pressure to get it right was enormous… lives depended on it.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Matt frowned at the feel of the day-old stubble. He needed to shower and shave… change into a fresh set of clothes. A message telling him to report to the company commander when he got off duty had been left on his cot. A nap… one that lasted for a week, would have to wait until after he had cleaned up and made the trip across the base to his CO's office. Sighing, he forced himself to his feet and began to gather the items for his bath.

Arriving at the showers assigned to his squad, he mechanically began to go through the motions of bathing. The spray from the shower felt good… though a long bath would have been better. The mental image of his bath back home… his wife Callie, partially covered in the bubbles she insisted on adding to the bathwater, popped into his mind and refused to go away. He missed her… missed their kids. He wanted to go home, but his current posting had been extended for an indeterminate duration.

/Damn Eva! It can't have been as bad as…/ began the rant that had become second nature to him over the past few years. The image of his wife was suddenly replaced with the memory of the pictures the policeman in DC had sent to him of his sister… pictures she had been forced to allow while recovering in the hospital… from injuries her ex-husband had inflected.

He had tried to tell himself Eva was strong… too strong to allow herself to be hurt like that by her own husband… but his resolve had faltered each time he looked at them. She had all but raised him after their parents died in a car accident. Eva was so strong… the thought of her being hurt like that seemed impossible to reconcile… /or am I such a selfish bastard I'm more concerned with my career than my sister's safety? I thought Mom and Dad were indestructible too and…/

That thought was followed by another… one that scared him witless. Where was Eva? If the DC cop was being straight with him, she wasn't the first woman to cross paths with Richard Welch to disappear without a trace. He had been praying for months that Parrise knew what he was talking about and she was hiding somewhere safe rather than consider the other alternative… Welch was indeed a killer and had another body to add to his resume.

Spotting the clock on the wall over the door, Matt groaned. Worrying about his sister would have to wait. He needed to hurry if he wanted to catch his commander before he left his office for the day… he was usually there until after 11 at night. If he was lucky, he could grab some rack time afterwards. He knew he needed to rest while he could.

-----

"Cambiati made it through surgery, Cap, but the doctors aren't holding out much hope he'll wake up," Fin reported. "Hope's clammed back up… she's scared out of her mind. AC has a detail watching her and her husband. She's camped out in his room."

Pausing to listen to his commander's response, he replied, "Naw, no sign of the tape in the house, but they found the key to a safety deposit box at East Coast B&T. It's after 3, so it may be tomorrow or Monday before AC can get a warrant and see what's inside. They are waiting on their ADA so they can get a warrant… he's on his way, but who knows when he'll get here."

"Liv wants to take another run at Hope. We plan to stop back by the hospital before we head back," he replied. "We're still at the police station waiting to see if they get their warrant today. Their ADA asked us to stick around so he can talk to us about our case… maybe help us out and include a list of items that might tie back to the rape… clothes, bedding, film, pictures… digital media in addition to the tape."

"We'll play it by ear. If it looks like being here in the morning makes sense, we'll find a place to crash for the night. If we do, we should still be back to the City by noon unless something new breaks. Be nice to have a copy of the tape to bring with us."

"Anything else happening that we missed?"

"Damn! Ok, we'll wrap things up here as quick as we can. If we stay, one of us will call you in the morning and let you know where we are."

Ending the call, he looked over at the woman sitting across from him in a nondescript interrogation room. "We are so getting it from all of them when we get back to the house, babe. I could hear John and El laughing in the background when Cap suggested we spend the night."

"As long as I have you all to myself tonight, I can live with that. Now tell me… what's the latest?"

-----

"Matt… come on in and have a seat."

Relaxing from the formal stance, Matt dropped his salute and smiled. Taking the indicated chair, he asked, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

The man behind the desk was career military… the son of a long line of policemen that had walked the beat on the tough streets of Chicago. **Brig Gen**. Ronald Haney had chosen a different path and he was good at what he did. Chief among his many skills was the unfailing ability to judge the character of the men and women assigned to his command.

The younger officer sitting across from him had turned out to be a bit of a surprise. The intel he had gotten on Matt Byrne was he was a bright, capable officer with potential, but that he lacked the drive and initiative necessary to excel. One former CO had been a little more blunt… he was immature and selfish, not real officer material.

Word was Byrne had been bumped ahead quickly due to political connections… the kind that favored who a person knew over what a person was capable of doing. He had also heard that the young man's benefactor had recently turned his back on the young man… perhaps, hung him out to dry. Haney knew Byrne was long overdue for leave… but then, so were a lot of the people under his command.

Knowing all that, he had been pleasantly surprised by the changes he had seen in the young man during his time in Iraq. Faced with the grim realities of war, he had risen admirably to the occasion. The man sitting across from him was a man that now deserved the responsibilities placed on his shoulder… one that deserved to advance on merit. He liked his subordinate and was ready to help him get his career back on track.

Still, he was puzzled. He didn't remember calling… "I take it the message asking you to come see me about a personal matter never got recalled," Haney replied. "Sorry about the snafu. We got word your sister had been hurt and was in the hospital in New York, but it was a screw-up by the NYPD. Apparently, they got their hands on wrong information. Nothing to be worried about… which is a blessing for you. Apparently, the woman they were calling about was pretty badly hurt."

Matt felt his heart skip a beat. "Did they give a name for the woman?"

Holding the younger man's gaze, Haney instantly knew something was wrong. "Yeah… I think the message is… yeah, here it is. Samantha Dunbar. Should have known it wasn't right when it came in… your sister's name is Eve, right?"

Absentmindedly, Matt nodded. "Eva actually. Did the message say what happened to the woman?"

"Yeah, it says she tried to help a teenage girl that was being raped by a gang of thugs in Central Park. Story was all over CNN for a few days; you probably saw it if you got a chance to catch the news," the older man responded. Hesitating for a moment, he asked, "Why are you so rattled by this, Matt?"

"I… Eva disappeared earlier this year, sir," Matt admitted, acting on instinct and the need for the advice of a man he had come to respect greatly. "She was married. Her ex is looking for her, but… he has a history that worries me. She never told me, but… I'm beginning to think I wasn't much of a brother to her."

Studying the young man closely, Haney noted the worry clouding his eyes. "And you think this wasn't a mistake… that it might be your sister after all?"

"I can't say why… but yeah, that's what my gut is telling me," Matt admitted. "Our dad's name was Samuel… Sam. One of her best friends in law school was named Dunbar… Kate Dunbar. The name Samantha Dunbar seems… right, if she's hiding and using an alias."

"You say she disappeared earlier this year?"

"The DC police think she's gone into hiding to try and escape…" he began, only to hesitate again. Realizing it was time to put his sister's safety ahead of his career, he continued. "Eva raised me after our folks died… I think I've told you that before, sir. She still tends to treat me like her baby brother, so she never told me what was happening

to her."

"And that was?"

"She married into a powerful family, sir… the kind that runs things from behind the scenes," Matt offered. "Frankly, I thought it was great. Richard did a lot for my career, but… the cop I spoke to in DC told me he abused Eva for years… that she tried several times to get away from him, but he always found her and… made her pay for leaving him. He put her in the hospital a couple of times… she never told me."

"Go on."

"He told me Richard had a history of violence toward women… but his old man kept him out of trouble," Matt admitted. "I didn't want to believe him… as much for my own selfish reasons as because I didn't want to think of Eva being hurt like that, but… he sent me some pictures of her. God, it was bad and… I let her down big. Last time we spoke, I yelled at her for divorcing Welch… because it meant I lost my ticket to promotion and advancement. Then… she fell off the radar… I'm the only close relative she has left, sir. I can't get over the feeling it's her and someone is helping cover her tracks. They must think I'd tell Welch where she is."

Sitting back in his chair, Haney studied Byrne in silence for several minutes. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier? If she was missing, I might have been able to get you leave to see if you could help find her."

"That's just it, sir… if she's hiding… Welch might use me to find her," he confessed, finally admitting the truth to himself. "I failed Eva all these years, too childish and selfish to see what should have been obvious to me all along."

Surging to his feet, he began to pace. "I trusted the bastard! I trusted the bastard to take care of her and protect her… and he raped and beat her! She's hiding to save her life and probably thinks I'd sell her out to get Welch's support back."

"So… what do you want to do about this, Matt?"

"I need to know if it's her… if she's OK, but… I can't risk getting her killed," he whispered, coming to a stop in the middle of the floor. "She dropped out of college for several years so she could take care of me… held down two jobs so she could get us an apartment and pay the bills. They wouldn't let her have custody of me any other way. I'd have ended up in foster care if she hadn't."

Taking a deep breath, Matt Byrne finished growing up. "She was nineteen and… she put me first. Most of the money Mom and Dad left went to pay for my medical bills… I was in the car with them and had to have surgery and rehab. I can only imagine how hard it was on her. I was a 13 and didn't want my big sister telling me what to do. She put her life on hold for me… she didn't have time to date or have fun with her friends. It must have been hard on her."

Staring into space, he continued. "With her pushing, I got good enough grades for a partial scholarship. She lost hers when she dropped out of college to care for me, but she somehow got loans and we ended up going together. She worked 6 to 10 in the morning in a diner, went to class… then worked at a bar from 7 until 2 in the morning. I took it all for granted, but she managed to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table… even graduated with honors."

"That says a lot about her," Haney observed.

"Yeah, it does," Matt whispered. "When she married Welch, he took an interest in me and… I started siding with him whenever I heard there were problems in their marriage. I owed her better."

Nodding, Haney agreed. "Yeah, you did… but that's all water under the bridge. Question is what are you going to do now? Do you want me to make a few discrete inquiries to see if I can found out if this woman is Eva… and how she's doing?"

"Sir, I'd appreciate that, but… you have no idea how connected Welch is," Matt sighed. "Odds are he's already heard that I was notified about this. If he somehow missed it, he won't miss inquiries coming from my unit about her. I'm scared to risk it."

"I have an old friend with the Manhattan DA's office," Haney began. "I trust him without reservation and… he isn't the type to be beholden to a powerbroker… too damned hardheaded and moralistic. I'll give him a call and explain the situation… provided you assure me you finally have your priorities straight. From what you've just told me, **I** owe it to Eva to ask."

-----

"How are you feeling?"

"John… you came," Sam whispered, turning her head in his direction. "I… I'm glad you did."

Frowning, he walked over to the side of her bed and gently took her good hand. "What's wrong? You sound upset… like you've been crying."

"I'm not supposed to cry," she murmured, her breathing ragged. "Crying could complicate the problems with my eyes."

Hesitating for a moment, he asked, "What's happened that has you saying something like that?"

Sighing, she weakly gripped his hand. "They just changed my bandages. I… it was the first time I was awake when they did,"

"And…?"

He had to bend close to her lips to hear her answer. "I… I can't see… nothing. I'm… blind."

"Nothing?" he repeated, stalling for time to give himself a chance to decide how to respond.

"Well… it was brighter… I guess I can see degrees of light," she admitted, her soft voice quivering. "But… I couldn't see shadows or shapes… blurry outlines… nothing."

Squeezing her hand gently, he asked, "Have you spoken to the doctors to see what they plan to do to fix the problem?"

Forcing back a sob, Sam unconsciously tugged him closer. "Dr. Matsoukis was here… I don't know… just after they gave me my dinner. He said…"

"He said what, Sam?"

"I needed to begin… (sob)… pre…preparing… (shuddering breath) …not getting… (sob) … better."

Clinching his own eyes shut, John struggled with the instinctive need to pull her into his arms so that he could hold her against the terror and grief ripping through her. "Does… isn't there something they can do… treatments… surgery… something?"

Tugging at his hand again, she whispered, "Yes… both, but… he said… he said…"

"He said what, Sam?"

"Not to… get to… not to…" Unable to go any further, she began to cry… great racking sobs that shook her weakened body.

Unable to watch and do nothing, John barely registered his own actions as he lowered the protective railing around her bed and carefully gathered her into his arms. The fingers of her undamaged right hand gripped the fabric of his jacket as she buried her face into the comfort of his chest. He felt the hard, unyielding cast binding her shattered left hand dig into his back as she tried to pull him closer… hide from the crushing reality of what had happened to her.

Neither saw the devastated teenager hovering in the doorway, her mother griping the handles the wheelchair in a death grip. The ICU nurse, Susie Webber, gently eased them back and away from the door, a steady stream of tears sliding down her cheeks in concert with the tears shed by the two other women. The veteran NYPD officers guarding the two women traded uneasy looks before staring at the floor.

-----

A/N --- I wanted to remind readers that I began this story long before certain story developments on the show made a lot of the 'facts' of my story AU. I debated the possibility of trying to make a few adjustments to make it fit a little better with the current SVU universe, but everything I came up with seemed out of place and disrupted my plot too much to make it worth the effort; therefore, I'm simply reminding readers that this story is well and truly AU and going to stay that way… John is still Det. Munch, no undercover FBI trips to Oregon or no long-lost brothers for Liv, no Chester Lake as a new partner for Fin (YEAH!!), no baby Stabler for Elliot, and Branch is still the DA.

Thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated… begged for… lusted after with a great passion!!!


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Blind, Chapter 14

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 14

-----

"Ms. Novak, I can't explain what has happened to those files," Virginia Adams began. "I checked them myself after you and your colleagues left my office the morning after the incident in the park. I wanted to be sure I had all of my facts in order."

"When you called yesterday, I immediately went through them again and… someone has altered every file I checked, not just the ones covered by your search warrant," she continued, her distress at what she was telling them obvious. "It appears **every** file in our records was altered. I can't explain how it happened. The records room is not easily accessed and is locked at all times."

Narrowing her eyes at the other woman, Casey demanded, "That's not good enough, Ms. Adams. Those files were subject to a court order and failure on your part to produce…"

"I understand all of that, Ms. Novak," the headmistress interjected. "If I had any doubts, Mr. Jordan disabused me of them last evening after I called him to alert him to the problem. I didn't alter these files and I most certainly didn't authorize anyone else to so."

"So, you're telling us those hardcopy files are all you have?" John demanded. "In this day and age, you expect us to believe the Winthrop Academy doesn't keep their records in a computer database like the rest of the world?"

"Of course Winthrop maintains its records digitally, Det. Munch," Roger Jordan, Esq. replied. "The school's central server was hit by some type of virus or other computer malware late yesterday when Dr. Adams tried to access the student records from her office pc. It erased the entire database."

"You're expecting us to believe…" Cragen began.

"Winthrop was the victim of a malicious attack on our computer system and our archival records," Dr. Adams asserted. "I am formally requesting on the school's behalf that the police investigate this matter and prosecute those responsible. My office and the entire staff will provide whatever assistance we can in your investigation."

"Until then, I'm happy to report we do have a solution to the problem with the records you require," she added. "All of our records are backed up at a data management firm and warehoused there to prevent this very type of situation from occurring. The data is backed up every hour on a reoccurring loop. A master copy of the database is made every Friday at 11:30 p.m., which replaces the copy from the preceding Friday."

"And those files are intact?" Casey asked, wanting to be sure of that fact.

"The one from Friday of last week is secure… they back the master files up on a separate server shielded by a defense department grade firewall, but the hour-by-hour update was overwritten by the corrupted database, wiping it out," Jordan replied. "The firm that provides these services made us a digital copy of the entire database from last week along with a separate cd containing the specific files you were seeking in your warrant. They sent that to us by overnight currier. Other than this week's attendance records, those files will have all the information you secured through the search warrant."

"Does that include notes or other correspondence that would have been in the hard files?" Casey asked, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

"Any information in the hard files that isn't available in a digital format, permission slips and the like, are scanned and saved as a PDF in the student's digital file," Adams affirmed.

Reaching into his briefcase, the school's attorney pulled out a CD and handed it to Casey. "As we met the currier literally on the front steps of the stationhouse, we have not had time to print you a copy, but we are turning over the CD with the specific files covered at this time… it is just as we received it. I have a duplicate copy that Dr. Adams has asked me to keep at my office for the moment along with a duplicate copy of the master database files. If you need to bill us for the cost of the copies, have someone send an invoice to my attention and I will see that it is paid."

Pulling out a manila file, he pushed it in John's direction across the table. "All of the students involved attended classes on Monday. Jodi Williams was absent without explanation on Tuesday. Austin McKenzie left at 3 for a dentist's appointment. Here is a signed affidavit from each of the teachers for those students certifying the accuracy of the attached attendance report, with the permission slip from Austin's mother appended."

"We are also turning over a copy of a Notice of Transfer Winthrop received yesterday, requesting we send Ms. Williams records to the school in Switzerland where she was previously enrolled. I believe that gives you everything we were required to produce, plus the other documents that might be tangentially covered by the warrant," Jordan concluded.

"Captain, can you arrange for computer crimes… or TARU if it's their turf, to investigate what happened at Winthrop?" Casey requested. "I'd prefer SVU oversee the investigation since it's tied to our case."

Nodding, Don looked over at John. "Add it to the list."

A rueful smirk greeted his comment as the detective made a note on the pad in front of him. "Dr. Adams… when we talked the morning after the attack, you said you couldn't answer any specific questions about your students until after we secured the warrant. I'd like to do that now. When we talked, I asked if Steven…"

-----

Don Cragen looked up to see who was standing in his doorway. "Counselor… to what do I owe the pleasure? If you're looking for Casey, she left about twenty minutes ago."

Closing the door behind him, Jack McCoy accepted the hand extended across the desk. "No, I came to see you. I need information and I need to be discrete."

Frowning slightly, Cragen motioned toward the chair across from him. "Have a seat. I'll give you what I can… assuming I know anything."

"Samantha Dunbar… Central Park's avenging angel," Jack began. "Is that her real name?"

Cragen rocked back in his seat and fixed McCoy with a hard stare. "That's a pretty strange question. Why would you ask?"

"Some days I ask a lot of strange questions," Jack offered.

Relenting when he realized Cragen wasn't blinking, he admitted, "I got a call last night from an old buddy… guy that lived down the block from me as a kid. He's now a **Brigadier General in the Air Force… stationed in Iraq. His command received a message from the NYPD regarding Ms. Dunbar… a message that was supposed to go to her brother, Major Matt Byrne. The Major was on duty and didn't get the message until last night… or got a message to ignore the first message, a mistaken in the initial identification he was told. Care to explain that to me?"**

**Sighing, Don fixed the EADA with a steady gaze. "I warned Munch it might be too late to recall the first message."**

**Frowning, Jack demanded, "Was the first message sent in error?"**

**"I have to ask… do you trust your friend with information that might get a woman killed if it falls into the wrong hands?" Cragen asked, rising to go to the door to see if John was still in the squadroom. **

**Seeing the lanky detective sitting at his desk hunched over a file, he opened the door and called, "John… can you join us for a minute?"**

Turning back, he found McCoy's gaze fixed on him with a narrow-eyed intensity that would make weaker men squirm. "Ron Haney is one of the most honorable men I've ever known. If this needs to be kept under the radar, he'll see it is. That's why he called me at home last night to ask rather than at my office. It's also why I took a chance on catching you in the office on a Saturday morning. Satisfied?"

"Your word's enough for me," Cragen agreed. Seeing John ease open the door, he pointed to the second chair across from him. "John… take a seat. You know Jack McCoy."

Nodding, John shook hands with the EADA before dropping into the hard wooden chair. "Sure… known him longer than I've known you, Cap. He was involved in a couple of cases I worked while I was still at Baltimore. So… what brings you down to our humble abode?"

McCoy watched with interest as Munch's eyes narrowed when he mentioned Samantha Dunbar's name. "…Haney wants to know if there's any chance she's using an alias to hide from her ex-husband. The message to Major Byrne didn't get recalled in time and he's worried it might be his sister, Eva Welch, lying in that bed. Seems she went missing earlier this year. He worried about her safety and hopes it's simply a matter of her hiding, not something more sinister. Byrne is afraid to call too much attention to her by making an official inquiry."

Holding John's fierce gaze… the oddly protective nature of the gaze all too apparent to the experienced EADA, Jack repeated, "Is Samantha Dunbar her real name?"

"Yeah, it is."

Frowning, Cragen ordered, "We're not leaving it at that, John. Jack is the EADA and has the right to the entire story. If we can't trust him to be discrete with this information, we have a fundamental problem. Now, are you going to answer his real question or am I?"

Glaring at his superior, John finally relented. "Her name is legally Samantha Dunbar. A friend of hers is a judge out west and helped her change it when she went into hiding. Apparently, this judge and other friends of hers are helping her hide. I didn't find this out until after we'd already notified the Air Force to alert her brother."

"She's… or was Eva Welch?"

"Yeah," John admitted, rubbing his neck in an agitated manner. "Counselor… word gets out about this, press will have a field day and undermine her credibility, not to mention expose her to the bastard that made her life hell for fourteen years. We've all been doing this too long not to understand how bad it must have been for her to take such drastic steps to hide. He brother… hasn't exactly shown himself to have her best interest at heart."

Jack closed his eyes and blew out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, I got that from Haney. Apparently, Byrne was pretty upfront with him about his past failings to his sister. Ron says his time in Iraq has changed Byrne… made him a better man. If we have a serviceman in a war zone worrying about his sister and he isn't a threat to her safety… damn it, we owe it to him to tell him the truth."

"But, our first responsibility is to Sam Dunbar, Jack," Cragen interjected. "She's lying in a hospital bed, blind and helpless for the moment. Yesterday's shooting down in Atlantic City means she may be in danger on two fronts… a blind hero makes a better witness than a dead one. We need to keep her ex out of the mix if we can."

Startled, Jack demanded, "How does a shooting in AC have anything to do with this?"

After listening to a full report from the two policemen, McCoy mused, "Well, that explains why Casey Novak spent two hours closeted in Arthur Branch's office late yesterday."

Frowning, he asked, "Is Sam Dunbar up to making the call about telling her brother? If she's able, I'd prefer to let her decide. You're right about our obligation to her."

"I stopped by last night to see how she was doing," John admitted. Seeing the looks he was getting, he added, "She's on her own, no friends or family to check on her, so I've been trying to stop by in the evenings so she has someone visiting her. It seems to help her having someone to talk to."

"OK… for now," Cragen responded. "But, you need to keep this professional, John. You can't be her buddy and do your job the way she deserves if you get too close. Got it?"

"I know, Cap." John admitted, surprised by how much the comment bothered him. "Anyway, she was pretty upset when I got there. They had just changed the bandages over her eyes for the first time while she was awake and… she wasn't able to see anything… well, she could tell it was brighter, but nothing else. The doctors aren't giving her much hope it will get any better. They plan to do some tests… surgery, once she is a little stronger… maybe as soon as tomorrow. She was devastated… terrified, so I stayed to talk until the nurse gave her something to help her sleep. I can ask…"

"No, I'd prefer to meet her myself," McCoy interjected. "I know Ron Haney and can vouch for his character. It's Saturday, so my calendar is open this morning…"

"Your name isn't on the approved list, Jack," Don inserted. "Security around both women is as tight as we can make it. My senior detectives, Casey Novak, and I are the only ones on the list besides Lucy and Rebecca Hellman and a very restricted number of medical personnel. Sam Dunbar has to agree to allow additions to the list."

Glaring, McCoy demanded, "You're telling me… one of our ADA's can get in to see her but not the EADA?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah. If it makes you feel any better, Branch can't get in either," Cragen replied, his amusement at McCoy's bruised ego barely contained. He knew better than to look in John's direction, feeling his smirk from across the room.

Seeing the other man's glare up a notch, Don added, "Jack… you need to be patient with her. She almost died the other night and may not be ready to face this anytime soon. When does your friend expect a reply?"

"I told him I'd try to find out something and call him back over the weekend," he replied. "I need to call him back by Monday or Tuesday at the latest or he's going to know I'm hiding something."

John spoke for the first time in several minutes, his voice surprisingly subdued. "Do you think her brother is sincere about his change of heart? Honestly, she could really use some good news if it's true. She's pretty torn up about being estranged from him and needs his support right now."

"From what Haney said, yeah, I think he's sincere, but… I need to point out there is always the possibility someone else saw the message. Welch could have someone watching Byrne… monitoring his communications if he's still looking for her. There are always people willing to sell their own mother to make a quick buck or maybe get a transfer stateside," Jack offered.

"I'll take a run by the hospital and see if she's up to talking about this," John offered. "Like I said, it was all crashing down on her last night and she was feeling pretty emotional. If they go ahead with the surgery on her eyes… it may be Monday at the earliest before she's able to talk."

"Play it by ear, but let me know as soon as you talk to her." Watching as John rose to leave, Jack added, "I've heard Branch mention the Welch Family… they are major players by all accounts. If she's in the crosshairs from them **and** Phelps, maintaining her security is a going to complicated at best. If you've already gained her trust, detective, and been seen visiting her already, I think you need to keep it up. Unless Don feels strongly otherwise, we may have to risk your objectivity for her safety."

-----

"Damn, no tape," Fin complained shifting through the items recovered from the safety deposit box. Looking over at the lead detective working the Cambiati shooting, a paunchy middle-aged man named Denny Andradi, he asked, "Is that his will?"

"Yeah," Andradi replied without looking up from the papers in his hands. Flipping through the four-page document, he murmured, "Well, this is interesting…"

Frowning, Fin traded a look with Andradi's partner, Annie Sturgis. The partners were polar opposites in every way… she was tall and extremely thin, he was short and fifty pounds overweight; she was black, her partner white; she was spoke quickly… sometimes getting ahead of the rest of the conversation, Andradi was slow and plodding in his personality and work habits. Surprisingly, the mismatched duo had the highest clearance rate in their squad.

Rolling her eyes in silent agreement, Annie Sturgis demanded, "So, Denny… you plan to share whatever is so interesting with us anytime today?"

Startled, the older man looked up. "What?"

A long-suffering sigh preceded, "The will… what's so interesting?"

"Oh, yeah," he agreed. Holding out the document for them both to see, he pointed to the bottom of one page. "Never seen something like this… 'in the event of my untimely death'. It's like something out of a 'B' movie."

"That is different," Sturgis agreed, too far away from the document to read it without pulling her glasses off of the top of her head. "What does he want done 'in the event of his untimely death'? Yesterday, came pretty damn close."

"He says his lawyer is ordered to turn over a package he entrusted to his care to the Manhattan Special Victims Unit."

"Bingo… must be the tape."

-----

"… they called a few days later to say the original message was a mistake of some type… someone at the NYPD screwed up an ID on some unknown woman in the hospital. The second message said not to bother Byrne… worry him for nothing. Said they felt bad about upsetting a serviceman serving in Iraq… apologized for the confusion. Looked pretty insignificant to me, but I thought you would still want to know."

Silence… then, "Why didn't Byrne get the message if it took several days for New York to call back?"

Puzzled by the question, the first man offered, "He and his unit were working around the clock to repair a couple of cargo planes they needed to get back in the air. His CO decided to wait to tell him until they were finished. Byrne couldn't take leave anyway and Haney didn't want him distracted worrying about his sister when he was in the guts of a plane."

"So, Byrne doesn't know about the message?"

Frowning slightly as he silently asked himself why they were still discussing a 'non-issue', the man corrected, "Naw, he got it… someone had left a note on his bunk to see Haney when he got off duty, then forgot to retrieve it. Byrne talked to Haney, then went to his quarters to grab some sleep. Don't blame…"

The icy voice interrupted his answer with another question. "Did he make any attempt to follow-up on the message… mention it to his wife when he talked to her?"

"No… just the same old complaints and moaning," the middle-aged man replied, glancing nervously over his shoulder as someone picked up the phone in the stall next to the one he was using. "Didn't seem to faze him."

Another long pause. "The woman's name was Samantha Dunbar?"

"Yeah, but that's not his sister's name. You said her name's Eva, so it had to be a mistake… right?"

He didn't miss the frigid condescension in his benefactor's voice as the other man drawled. "I'm glad to see you were paying attention to the details of your assignment. I'd hate to be paying for anything less."

Stu Barber hung up the phone in the common area available to the service men and women in his unit after he realized the line had gone dead. A shudder of unease rippled down his spine as he replayed the conversation in his mind. /Fuck! What have I got myself into with this bastard? I got a bad feeling…/

-----

1/26/2008


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Blind, Chapter 15

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Fin/Liv; others on the fringes  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 15

-----

Tapping on the frame of the door to her room, John asked, "Feel up to a visit?"

A sleepy voice asked, "John? … Is it evening already?"

Smiling so that she could hear it in his voice, he moved over to stand next to her bed. "No. It's just after 10 in the morning. How are you feeling?"

"Groggy… they had to reset my hand, so they doped me back up," she murmured, reaching out blindly for his hand with her unbroken right one. "I messed it up when I… must have held on too tight. They strung it up to this damned harness… to keep my bones aligned. Hurts."

Taking her hand with his right one, he gently tucked a wisp of hair away from her face with his left. "Damn, I'm sorry, Sam. I should have…"

"Not your fault," she insisted. "Thankful you were there. I felt… so alone… then you came. Thanks."

"Well, if my being here helped, I'm glad," he answered, "but I hate being the one to make a beautiful woman cry."

A soft, faint chuckle teased his hearing. "Not so beautiful… and you didn't make me cry. I… I guess I've been trying not to cry since I woke up… when I lost my last baby. First time since… I guess I needed it."

Touched by that bit of news, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Well… yeah, I guess you did. It's never good to hold too much inside."

"Personal experience?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me about it sometime?"

A sudden flutter to his heartbeat took him by surprise. "That comment seems to imply you don't mind having me around."

Her voice took on a shy, uncertain quality. "You said… you wanted to be… my friend… so… friends talk."

"I do," he soothed. "I need to warn you… most people tell me I never stop talking once I start."

Her smile brightened what little he could see of her face beneath the bandages. "I'll try to remember you warned me."

"Have no fear of that," he teased. "I'm not one to let you forget… probably every time you tell me to hush!"

Another soft chuckle. "I wouldn't do that."

"I'll remind you of that too"

Noting the easing of the lines around her mouth as she relaxed in response to his teasing, John hesitated to bring up the primary reason for his visit. He knew the decision of whether or not to tell her brother was hers to make. If McCoy's friend was right about her brother's change of heart, she would find it a comfort to know her brother cared. He had to tell her, but instinct urged that this wasn't the right moment.

Her voice startled him out of his musings. "Shouldn't you be working, Det. Munch? You said it was 10 in the morning, so… why did you come by… not that I'm not happy to…"

He felt the shudder that rippled through her body. John knew she had been about to say 'see you'… the everyday phrase reminding her that she had not, and maybe never would, see him or anything else ever again. "Don't give up, Sam. They may still be able to treat your eyes."

"But… what if they can't, John?" she whispered. "I… how do I live like this? And, how will I make a living? I'll have to start over and… I don't have any savings. I don't know how I'm going to pay for any of this and…"

Squeezing her hand, he soothed, "Calm down, Sam. You don't have to figure that out right this minute. Concentrate on getting better for now. Until you know what you're up against, you're making yourself sick worrying about problems you might never have to face. Besides, you won't have to do it alone."

"But…"

"No buts," he proclaimed. "Sam Dunbar didn't happen by accident. She has friends. Add me to the list. You'll get through this and find your way again. OK?"

Sam was silent for a long minute. "I guess I don't have much choice do I? It's just that… it's hard lying here hour after hour with nothing to do but think and worry."

Frowning, he considered ways to keep her mind occupied while she healed. "You told me you like to read. I could pick up a couple of audiobooks at the library near my place… they have a big section of them. I usually check one out when I take the train to Baltimore to visit my family. Today's Saturday… the reason I'm not officially working, so I can stop by and get you enough to keep you busy for now. Do you have any requests?"

"That's too much…"

"No, it's not," he insisted. "The library is only a few blocks over from my place. I'll walk right past it when I'm out running errands this afternoon. I can bring them by tonight or tomorrow."

His heart fluttered again as he heard the surprise and vulnerability coloring her voice as she murmured, "You'd go to that much trouble for me? You barely know me…"

Tightening his grip on her hand, he agreed. "True, but I thought we just agreed to give the friendship thing a try. Relax, Sam. It's not an inconvenience. OK?"

"If you're sure…"

"I am," he promised, mentally confirming his decision to wait until that evening to see if she was in a better frame of mind for a discussion about her brother. "Before I leave, I'll get some titles and authors from you. This is your excuse to indulge in all those books you've never had time to read. We all have a stack."

"I've never read The Da Vinci Code… I guess that makes me one of about three people left that haven't," she mused, her words coming in a slow ramble as she struggled to remain focused against the affects of the pain meds. "I just started The Silmarillion. I found my old copy when I was moving and decided to reread it. I love Jane Austin. I keep planning to find time to read more of the classics… I'm a sucker for a good mystery… Tony Hillerman's books… they remind me of when we lived in Santa Fe when I was little. I haven't read Patricia Cornwell's or James Patterson's latest. Not really in the mood for serious nonfiction stuff. Love fantasy… science fiction… some biographies…"

Seeing her pause to take a deep breath and gather her strength, he teased, "So, I'm pretty safe no matter what I bring. That makes my job pretty easy. Have you read…"

--

After promising to visit again that evening, John left twenty minutes later when the nurse came in to check on her. He resolved to ask her about her brother then. For the moment, Sam had relaxed and smiling… something he wasn't ready to take away from her. There would be time enough that evening.

Stepping onto the elevator, he grumbled as his cell phone rang. Pulling it out, he noticed that the call was coming from…

-----

"Someone uploaded a worm onto the school's central server," Ruben Morales reported. "The worm wiped out everything… it didn't leave much for us to work with. The database storage company… Barton Archival, is all over this. It came through their external firewall with the school's hourly backup and wiped out several dozen of their other accounts before they got their server shut down to keep it from spreading. It's as virulent a piece of malware as any of us have ever seen. We're trying to isolate the worm… we may have something on it in a day or so."

"So, nothing to report yet," John concluded. "It's Saturday! Why the hell did you waste my time…"

Ignoring his companion's impatience, the TARU Tech continued, "The most obvious way to infect a server is to email an infected message with the worm embedded in a seemingly innocent attachment."

"OK… in came in with an email," John observed, hoping to speed things along so he could get back the squadroom in time to make a few calls before beginning to run his weekend errands. "Nothing surprising about that. What did you find? I don't have time…"

"I didn't say an email was the source… just that it's the usual suspect," Morales interjected, a pleased smirk on his face. Harassing Munch was a departmental sport.

Glaring, John demanded, "If you know something…"

"We tested all the school computers and found one in the records room that had its hard drive wiped at the same time as the server," the younger man offered, breaking into the building rant. "The other computers were effected differently… distinct pattern to this one. The one on Dr. Adams desk that probably activated the worm wasn't the source… that one was."

Handing John a copy of his preliminary findings, Ruben summarized, "Looks like someone uploaded the worm on the records room computer and the worm fed back to the source when it consumed the database. It may take me some time to piece together the details on the worm itself, but find out who has access to that computer and you'll find the one responsible."

-----

"Casey… Hi, it's Liv," she began. "We're on our way back. Fin and the AC detectives found Cambiati's will in the safety deposit box. He added a codicil in late April that may help us… his lawyer has a package he's supposed to deliver to us if Cambiati dies under suspicious circumstances. Do we have enough to get a judge to order him to turn it over now if we combine that passage with his wife's outcry comments to me after the shooting?"

Glancing over at Fin, she admitted. "No, I couldn't get Holly Cambiati to say anything more about the tape. She's freaked out and isn't talking… probably afraid of ending up in a bed next to her husband."

"They upgraded his condition this morning, but his doctors still have him listed as serious. He lost a lot of blood… flow to the brain was compromised. They don't know how much brain damage he suffered… assuming he wakes up," Liv reported.

"We faxed John a copy of the will and our reports before we left to drive back. He was at TARU, but was going to run back by the office to get them," she concluded. "I'll call him now and have him forward you a copy A'sap. We'll be back to the house by noon… 12:30 at the latest. I'll touch base with you then."

Watching as she pocketed her phone, Fin prompted, "Well?"

Smiling as she looked his way… a smile that made his breath catch, she reported, "She's going to look at the will and my report… see if she can use it to get a judge to issue an order."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Her deep brown eyes held his for a brief moment before he was forced to return his gaze to the road. "Then, we'll drag Hope back to New York under a material witness warrant and make her talk. One way or the other, we'll get the tape."

-----

"Where's John?"

Dropping the phone receiver back into its cradle, Elliot turned to greet Fin and Olivia as they walked into the squadroom. "He and Palmieri responded to a call that came in just before noon. That was him calling in for back-up. A little girl's gone missing in Midtown. Don and I were just about to head out."

"What do we know?" Fin asked, tossing the files he was carrying on his desk before turning to retrace his steps back out the door. A missing child was top priority; all other cases would have to wait.

Joining his detectives as they walked out, Cragen reported, "Amber Alert has been issued…"

-----

"… Mrs. Cambiati admitted to Det. Benson that her husband had acquired a tape that showed the torture and rape of a three-year old child by the younger son of his former employer. His will was revised less than a month after the alleged incident to add the codicil regarding the package. The People contend that this package includes the tape and that it should be produced immediately as it is evidence of a serious crime," Casey summarized.

Judge Lena Petrovsky looked up from reading the documents Casey had submitted in support of her petition for the warrant. "Did Mrs. Cambiati indicate she had personally viewed the tape in question?"

"Det. Benson asked what the tape showed. Her exact reply was… 'Steven… he raped and tortured that poor little baby! '," Casey supplied. "She used the phrase 'it showed' when referring to the tape. I don't think her comments leave any doubt to the fact she had first-hand knowledge of its contents."

Frowning slightly, the judge asked, "Were the Cambiatis under investigation by SVU at the time of the shooting? Shouldn't Mrs. Cambiati have been apprised of her rights before she was questioned by the detectives?"

"No, your honor," Casey began. "SVU was pursuing leads into the alleged rape of a 3-year old child. Mr. Cambiati was the head butler in the house where the assault reportedly took place. He and his wife retired and moved to Atlantic City within weeks of the incident in question. SVU was merely following up on a potential witness when the shooting occurred."

"Let's not be naive, Ms. Novak," Petrovsky retorted. "Are you trying to tell me the police didn't suspect the Cambiatis of using this tape to blackmail his former employer? An early, unplanned retirement… change in lifestyle… sudden money. I find it impossible to believe SVU didn't suspect them of some wrongdoing."

"Pursuing potential blackmailers isn't SVU's turf, your honor," Casey argued. "When they arrived in Atlantic City, SVU was pursuing leads on a rape case. They had no reason to Mirandize the Cambiatis because they weren't suspects in the rape."

Holding the younger woman's gaze in an intense stare, Petrovsky finally relented. "I have some reservations, but I will accept the detective's statement as a reasonable basis for linking the package in the Cambiati's will to the tape. I will order his attorney to produce the package for my review no later than 9:00 a.m. Monday morning. If it contains evidence related to the crime under investigation, I'll order him to turn it over to SVU immediately."

-----

"What do we have, John?"

Looking up from the tactical map displayed on his laptop as his captain and the other detectives in his squad approached, John responded, "Lilly Stevik… aged 3, was last seen playing with her toys on that bench. Her nanny is Amber Donovan… woman in the blue top talking to Jamison."

Returning to his report, John outlined the events of the morning. "Ms. Donovan and her friend… Kelly Babinaux, took three children in their care to the park at around 10:30. Lilly's maternal grandmother… Jane Seagrave, joined them at around 10:45… apparently something she does several times a week."

"As far as the timeline… the last time anyone remembers seeing Lilly was at around 11:30. She was playing with her dolls, then she was gone. No one saw her walk away… or anyone else in the vicinity other than the man with the dog talking to Palmieri. He was reading on the bench on the other side of the fountain. From where he was sitting, Lilly's position on the bench would have been hard to see, so I doubt he can tell us much."

"Where were the grandmother and the other two women?" Olivia demanded, accepting the picture of the missing child John had extended in her direction. "Is this a recent picture?"

"Yeah, it was taken in June. Mrs. Seagrave had it in her wallet. I had a uniform run it to the office supply store a block over to make copies. The officers canvassing have a copy… had her email a copy to dispatch to add to the Amber Alert," John offered.

"Right," Cragen acknowledged. "So, where were the women when she went missing?"

"According to Ms. Donovan, one of the other kids got sick… throwing up all over the place," John replied. "He had been playing with Lilly and Mrs. Seagrave left her on the bench while she took him to the other two… over by the sandbox. She swears she took her eyes off Lilly for only a second."

"The kid got sick? Did he eat something or was he just sick?" Elliot demanded, trying to piece together the missing pieces of the puzzle.

"First question I asked… all three children were fed a snack at around 10 before they left the Stevik's home," John supplied. "The third child is fine, so she either didn't eat whatever made the boy throw up or he's really sick. I had CSU take a sample of his vomit to analyze so we know for sure. His name is Tony Dmitry. He was dehydrated and too sick to talk when I got here, so EMS transported him to the hospital. We should know if he was drugged within the hour."

"Slip one child something to make him puke and snatch the other when the adults are distracted with the sick one… tracks," Fin observed.

"Yeah it does," Cragen agreed. "Did he eat anything after he got to the park?"

"He was too sick to talk when we got here, Cap, but Mrs. Seagrave didn't see him with anything," John replied. "He was groggy and a little shocky. My gut says someone gave him something and I couldn't run the risk of delaying getting him to a doctor waiting to get a coherent answer out of him."

"Nothing else you could do," Cragen agreed. "Liv, head over to the hospital and see if he's more responsive."

Looking back at John, he instructed, "What else can you tell us?"

"Uniforms were on the scene within 3 minutes of the first call… 11:41. They made a quick sweep of the park before calling us in," John recounted. "I got the call at 11:58… Joe and I arrived 7 minutes later. Uniforms have made a second, hard search of the park before spreading out into the surrounding area. K9 Unit is on the way. Joe and I were in the process of taking complete statements of the three women and dog man when you arrived," he concluded.

"Have her parents been called…"

-----

John paused in the doorway of Sam's ICU room. It was late, well after 11. He and his partners had spent the afternoon and most of the evening tracking down the missing little girl. Lilly's parents had died in a car accident earlier in the year and both sets of grandparents wanted custody. The grieving families had been battling over her in the wake of their own children's deaths.

Jane and Wallace Seagrave, the girl's maternal grandparents, were pulled off of a flight to Brazil on the tarmac at JFK. Lilly had been sleepy, but unharmed. The couple's carefully crafted plans to flee to Rio were thwarted by mechanical problems with their plane.

Her grandfather had taken a sedated Lilly from the park while Jane had distracted her caregivers with the sick little boy. The doctors were still trying to determine what she had used to taint the piece of candy she had given the child, but Tony didn't appear to have suffered any long term effects from whatever it was. The woman had refused to say more than it was harmless… that she would never hurt a child.

Wallace and the sleeping Lilly had been waiting in a motel room near the airport when she finished playing the frantic grandmother… long enough to try and distract the police from looking at her too closely. Jane had dyed both hers and the child's blonde hair black and dressed Lilly as a boy in hopes of evading the dragnet caused by the Amber Alert Cragen had sent region-wide within minutes of John's call.

The plane's mechanical problem had been an unforeseen complication. It had given the flight crew more time than they normally had to observe their passengers before takeoff. A stewardess had seen the Amber Alert and had used the opportunity to study the toddlers in her section.

The dye-jobs hadn't looked natural, especially the child's. Acting on impulse, she had called the child by name and alerted the police on her cell phone when the child had answered to the name Lilly. He and Fin had arrived to find the couple being restrained by the other passengers and crew.

Lilly had been happily eating a bowl of chocolate pudding, smearing the gooey substance all over the co-pilot's uniform. The mess had found its way to his jacket when he taken custody of the exhausted child, but a dry-cleaning bill seemed a small price to pay to see the child safely home before the day was done. All things considered, it had been the best ending to a case they had had in months.

Now, he stood at the door of another victim's hospital room. The strain and pace of the last week had been exhausting and he desperately needed a full night's sleep, but something had motivated him to check on Sam one more time before going home. He knew she was probably asleep, but he had promised to visit. Sam had had too many promises broken for him to consider adding another to the list.

A shaft of light from the hall fell across her face. He quickly noted the pinched quality to the portion of her face that he could see below the bandages covering her eyes. Something had upset her or she was in pain… either possibility bothering him more than he knew it should. He knew her hand had been throbbing painfully after it had been reset earlier, so he suspected that was at least part of the reason for her distress.

Moving quietly to her bedside, he gently smoothed the hair around her face away so that he could see her features more clearly.

"John?"

Sam's voice was thick and heavy… a combination of sleep and tears. "Yeah, I didn't mean to wake you. Are you OK? I can call the nurse if you need something for pain."

Feeling her reaching for his hand, he cradled hers between his two. "I'm fine… just thinking too much."

"You should be sleeping," he soothed. "Do you need something to help?"

"What time is it?" she whispered, the lines on her face easing as she clinched his hands like a lifeline.

"Around 11:30," he offered, sitting carefully on the edge of her bed. "I meant to come by earlier to check on you, but we had a kidnapping fall into our laps. Grandparents and child are happily reunited, but it was a long afternoon."

"You found him?"

"Her actually… an adorable little girl named Lilly," he confirmed, stroking the back of her hand. "And, no, I can't claim the glory… we got lucky. An alert stewardess spotted her on a plane to Rio and called it in. Lilly is fine… although my dry cleaner may not be able to save my jacket. Chocolate pudding stains are a bitch to get out of linen."

Giggling, she nestled into the pillows piled around her. "Poor baby."

"Laugh if you must, but this is my favorite jacket," he joked. "My captain won't be so amused when I give him my cleaning bill."

"You have to be exhausted after all that," she murmured, suddenly sleepy and relaxed. "You need to go home and rest."

"Yeah, I am, but… I promised to come see you tonight," he admitted. "I just couldn't go home until I made sure you were resting."

A soft smile accompanied a slight tightening of the hold she had on his hand. "I'm better. Go and sleep."

"I'll see you tomorrow… what time are you scheduled for your tests?"

"I don't know… I think they said 10 or 10:30. I was pretty groggy, so…"

"OK, I'll try to stop by before they take you up. If not, I'll be here when you get back. Sleep well."

-----

John gave a frustrated sigh as his phone rang as he entered his co-op in the Hudson Heights neighborhood twenty minutes later. Tossing his keys on a nearby table, he flipped it open. "Munch… this had better be good."

-----

3/09/2008


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Blind, Chapter 16

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Fin/Liv others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 16

"Do we have anything more on the shooting in Atlantic City?" Cragen asked, handing John a cup of coffee from the corner Starbucks as he walked into the squadroom early Sunday morning.

Looking up from the computer on his desk, John gratefully accepted the cup. "Hope Cambiati and two uniform officers had just left the hospital a little after 9 last night. Her husband had died an hour earlier… never regained consciousness. The two uni's were escorting her to a nearby hotel where some of their family members were staying."

"All three died before help could get to them… shooter opened up on them from a panel truck parked across from the main entrance of the hospital," he added. "The killer used an automatic… probably an AK-47 based on rounds recovered at the scene. Two bystanders were wounded… one is critical and the other was released after being treated at the ER for a wound to the arm."

Grabbing up a file, he flipped it open to extract several faxed pages. "The panel truck was found an hour later in a parking lot next to the Phoenix Casino. It was stolen earlier in the day from a small bakery south of AC… details still pending. Security tape of the parking lot shows two men ditching the truck at 9:17 p.m. and exiting the area on foot. Either they are hold up nearby or they had another ride stashed out of sight of the camera… my money's on the latter."

"According to the tape, both appear to be of medium height and weight… race unknown," he read from the faxed report. "They both appear to be male, but their clothing is making that hard to confirm… long baggy coats and pants… gloves and masks."

"Anything link the shooting to the one at the Cambiati house other than Hope was an apparent target in both?" Cragen asked, resting a hip on the corner of Fin Tutuola's desk.

"AC is working under the assumption the two shootings are related… probably same doers until something proves them wrong." Taking a deep breath of the coffee's aroma, John pulled off the lid and took a healthy sip. "The two detectives working the Cambiati shooting are heading up this one as well. Fin talked to them before he left to drive back down… he left us the latest. Two dead cops, so its high profile."

"Wasn't the first shooting with a high-powered rifle?" the precinct commander mused.

"Yeah… they changed to an AK last night, so it may indicate a different shooter," John observed.

"Or they were going for a neat kill at the house, but weren't taking any chances of missing her a second time," Cragen speculated, before moving toward his office. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I had just walked in the door of my place when Fin called with the news," he replied. "I got a few hours sleep before coming in. I wanted to talk to him… update him on what had happened while he and Liv were in AC. Since he's the only one to get a look at the shooters at the first scene, he may be down there most of the day."

"Liv and Elliot around?"

"They were in earlier, but left before Fin," John replied, leaning back in his chair to enjoy his coffee. "They'll be back later this morning. Elliot mentioned something about a new lead on one of their open cases, but I was on the phone and missed most of what he was telling Fin."

"Yeah, the Douglas investigation," Cragen offered before disappearing into his office. "Drunk picked up on a d&d last night had his fingerprints pop with ones recovered from the crime scene. They are following up to see if he could be her rapist." (A.N.: d&d = drunk and disorderly)

Remembering he had forgotten to relay a message, John rose and followed. "Casey called a few minutes ago. She plans to call Petrovsky and to ask her to order the package be handed over immediately. She doesn't want to run the risk of Phelps getting word of the tape and trying to get his hands on it… or knock off the lawyer before he hands it over."

"I'd like to avoid that as well."

The two men turned to find they had been joined by an unknown man, his clothes rumpled and creased like he had slept in them. Stepping back into the squadroom, John asked, "Can I help you?"

A large, bulky manila envelop was extended in John's direction. "My name's Arnold Kerry. I was told to give this to SVU in the event of the untimely death of my client, Mike Cambiati. I want this out of my hands before I end up on a slab next to him and his wife."

* * *

"Casey… Cambiati's attorney just walked in to our office with the package," Cragen reported, watching the man talking to John through the glass wall of his office. Shifting his phone to his other ear, he added, "This guy is scared out of his mind. What do you want us to do?"

"OK, I'll lock the package in our safe and stash Mr. Kerry in one of the interrogation rooms until you get here. I guess we'll have to be patient until then."

* * *

Fin walked into the squadroom of the Atlantic City Central's Homicide Division just after 9:30 a.m. Seeing the pair of detectives he had worked with on the earlier shooting huddled over a desk on the far side of the room, he moved quickly in their direction.

Denny Andradi called out a greeting, "I was hoping you would bring your partner with you. She's a lot easier on the eyes than you are."

"Speak for yourself," Annie Sturgis retorted. "Personally, I think Fin is a lot better looking."

Cutting his eyes in her direction, her partner observed, "You're the only one in the squad that would think that… majority rules, detective."

"Is it my fault I'm the only female in Homicide? Besides, I have to spend my days looking at this motley crew, so I deserve a break." Rising to extend her hand toward Fin, she greeted, "We appreciate your coming back down today. You may be the only one that can help us get an ID on our shooters. Two cops are dead, so we want their heads mounted on our wall."

"Cops are cops… we all feel it when one of us is killed," Fin replied. "Anything new since this morning?"

Growing instantly serious, Andradi reported, "We've found several people that saw the shooters leaving the parking lot… masked men tend to get noticed. A couple saw them pull off their masks and get into a dark blue late-model Camry five blocks to the south of the casino. Both were white males in their early to mid-thirties. One had dark brown or black hair and a mustache… walks with slight limp. The other has long blonde hair pulled into a braid. The blonde has a scar on his right cheek."

"You got a composite of them yet?"

Reaching behind him, the older detective grabbed a couple of sketches. "Yeah, they gave us these… pretty close to the ones you gave us following the first shooting. They jog anything for you."

After studying them for a few seconds, Fin shook his head. "Nothing more I can add, sorry. I got a look at the one in the front of the van when we walked by, but I only caught a glimpse of the one in the back… probably the shooter. He had blonde hair… a scar, but I can't say much more than that. No clue on height or weight on either man since I never saw them out of the car. These two sketches are an improvement on mine… more detail; they fit what I remember."

"One clue that might tell us something… one of the witnesses was close enough to hear them talking and says it sounded like Russian or another of the Slavic languages," Annie inserted. "We're…"

"Russian?" Fin interjected. "They're sure?"

Trading puzzled looks, the two detectives nodded. "The woman wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, but she took a few Russian language classes a few years ago, so she recognized the language. Why?" Annie asked.

"While Liv and I were down here, her regular partner re-interviewed the father of one of the vics from Tuesday night," Fin began. "The kid we are investigating for the rape of the little girl… his old man is a doctor. Rumors going around about him say the doctor has been keeping a Russian mistress in a condo on the Upper West Side. He also told Stabler the doctor has been involved in some shady business deals… maybe tied to the Russian Mob."

The entire squadroom froze as the implications of his information sank in. "Let me walk back though this to be sure I have it right," Denny requested. "Cambiati worked for this family as a butler and he had proof of the son's rape of the little girl. He and his wife retired suddenly and began to live large here in AC right after the rape is supposed to have taken place."

"Right."

Trading a look with his partner, Andradi continued. "The son was one of the little bastards that attacked the girl in Central Park on Tuesday night which led to your discovery of the other rape… attacks by this kid."

"Yeah."

"And his father… Cambiati's former employer, has ties to the Russian Mob," Annie concluded.

"Rumors are all we have at this point. We haven't had time to follow-up on that lead," Fin clarified. "My squad spent most of yesterday afternoon tracking down a little girl snatched by her grandparents. A missing child takes priority over other ongoing investigations and the whole unit works it hard. We had to put this investigation on the table as soon as we walked in the door yesterday."

"Saw you carrying her through the airport last night on the news," Annie offered, needing a momentary diversion to organize her thoughts. "I thought you were going to forget yourself and actually smile."

Flashing a brief grin, he nodded in agreement. "Almost did. Cases involving children are usually the worst, so bringing one home unharmed is as good as we get. SVU can be a hard gig."

"That was good work finding her so quick."

"Thanks, but we got a big break when that stewardess spotted Lilly," Fin admitted. "Rather be lucky than good if it ends like that."

"Yeah, wish they were all like that," she agreed. "Do you think there is anything to the Russian Mob angle? Are our shooters _Bratka_ connected?" (A/N -- '_Bratka'_ means 'Brotherhood' in Russian, a name often used for the Russian Mob.)

"Too much of a coincidence if they aren't," Fin replied. "I don't believe in coincidences. My money is on the shooters having Mob affiliations."

"Mine too," Andradi agreed. "I'll give a buddy of mine over at OC a call and see if they recognize any Mob hitters that fit the descriptions of our two."

Watching as her partner grabbed up his phone to make the call, Annie Sturgis mused out loud. "Why were you and Olivia so insistent that we guard Cambiati and his wife from another attempt on their lives? What made you so hinky?"

"When Stabler and I interviewed the brother-in-law the first time… the one that gave us the lead on a possible Mob connection, he said this doctor was capable of anything… Danvers even risked his son's life by taking him to Long Island rather than taking him to a hospital in the City where the doc might have too much influence," Fin supplied. "I thought he was being paranoid until Cambiati fell at our feet. Like I said, no doubt in my mind he's behind both hits."

Pausing, he added, "Still surprised he went after Hope a second time, but… maybe she knew more than we thought. Just glad we have both of our vics under high security watch. No need risking their safety with a bastard like this."

Frowning, she asked, "You really think he would try to kill them in the hospital?"

"If he's behind the shooting last night, he killed Hope Cambiati while she was with two cops, killing them in the process," Fin pointed out. "Doesn't seem he lets much of anything get in the way of protecting his interests."

Frowning, Sturgis reached for her desk phone and called the ME's office. While she was waiting to be connected, Fin asked, "What's eating at you?"

"Last we heard, Mike Cambiati had begun to improve… then he dies suddenly," she began. "Under the circumstances, that's not too surprising, but, I don't want to leave it to chance. I'm going to ask the ME to look real close at his death and make sure it wasn't helped along."

* * *

John turned to face the nurse's station, worried when he found Sam's room empty. It was a little after 11:30. From what she had told him the night before, they planned to do her tests around 10. He had expected to find her back in her room by now.

"Can you tell me where Ms. Dunbar is?" he asked the nurse sitting behind the desk once she had hung up the phone. He recognized her as the day shift head nurse, Tonya Peebles. "I thought her tests were scheduled for 10 this morning."

Smiling at the lanky detective… the entire nursing staff was watching the budding relationship unfolding between their patient and her rescuer with obvious interest, Tonya replied, "She's being prepped for surgery, Det. Munch. They did the tests and decided they couldn't wait any longer if they hope to restore any of her sight. She'll probably be in surgery for a couple of hours at least, then in recovery. I doubt she will be back to her room before tonight."

Frowning, he asked, "Why the change in plans?"

"The ophthalmologic surgeon that Dr. Matsuku called in to consult on treatment made the call… said he didn't have time to wait around," she explained, an irritated frown betraying her annoyance with the man. "In my opinion, Dr. Scott was more concerned with wrapping things up early so he can join his buddies for a round of golf. He should try a little harder not to seem like a walking stereotype if you ask me. Said he already had plans for this afternoon he wouldn't cancel, so it was now or tomorrow afternoon. Monday might be too late from what I heard."

Irritated by the arrogance behind his decision to take Sam to surgery immediately, especially given how weak she still was from her other injuries, John asked, "Is she stable enough for the strain?

"I'm sure the doctor wouldn't take a risk if she wasn't" the nurse hedged. "You're welcome to wait with us, but I doubt we'll know anything for a couple of hours."

Glancing at his watch, John debated his options. Something was gnawing at his gut… something seemed off, but what that something was eluded him for the moment. He needed to get back to the precinct and see if Casey had gotten clearance to open the package. Don had said they would wait on him to get back and he still had his weekend errands to run. "Can you get a message to her that I came by and will be back this evening to visit?"

"Sure," she grinned. The betting pool the staff was running was divided between those that felt the relationship would run its course once the emotions of the moment faded, those that were sure the policeman would end up getting hurt once their patient recovered and/or her family finally arrived, and those that felt the odd pair had something going… real chemistry and a connection that went beyond the moment. Tonya had her money on that unlikely position. If she was right, she and Susie Webber would be splitting the pool… currently topping over 500. "I'll run up there in a few minutes when the other nurses finish updating charts and see how she's doing… give her the message. If you want to wait…"

John hesitated. "I… sure, I'll wait."

Turning to hide her look of triumph, Tonya began to plan how she was going to spend her half of the money.

* * *

"Where are you?" his partner began. "You need to double check the security on Sam and Lucy… give NSUH a call. The ME down here says Cambiati died from a hot shot of morphine… he was murdered right under the noses of the cops assigned to watch him."

Rubbing his neck hoping to ease the tense muscles, Fin offered, "Andradi and Sturgis are looking for a nurse's aide that seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. They've been able to account for everyone that had access to his room except for him."


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Blind, Chapter 17

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Feedback appreciated!!

Blind, Chapter 17

--

John ran from the elevators toward the surgical wing of the hospital. The gnawing feeling in his gut had suddenly popped into focus hearing Fin's report on the death of Michael Cambiati. Something about the rushed decision to take Sam into surgery after her setback with her hand the day before seemed suspicious. He knew he was probably overreacting given the seriousness of the situation with her eyes, but he would rather look like a paranoid fool than take any risk with her life.

"Stop!! You can't go in there!"

Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a tall, brawny security guard heading his way. Flashing his badge, he demanded, "I'm Det. John Munch, SVU… I have reason to believe that Ms. Dunbar's life is in danger. I need to verify that her security has been double-checked prior to her surgery."

Frowning, the guard held his gaze as he reached for his cell phone. "Mr. Ogilvy… I got a Det. Munch outside the OR. He claims one of our patients is in danger and we need to investigate. What do you want me to do?"

"Dunbar."

Handing John the phone, the guard instructed, "My boss wants to talk to you."

"What's this all about, Munch? We've taken every precaution…" Ogilvy began.

"I'm pretty sure the head of security at Shorecrest Hospital in Atlantic City thought the same thing until this morning," John bit out. "He's now in the middle of a murder investigation involving a patient in their ICU that died from a deliberate morphine overdose. That patient was the one I told you about… the one linked to our investigation."

John could hear the sudden unease in the other man's voice as he asked, "Ms. Dunbar isn't scheduled for surgery before tomorrow at the very earliest… probably Tuesday. I spoke with her doctor this morning and…"

"They're prepping her now. If she dies on the operating table and you don't make them take the time to verify she's safe, I'll have your head on a pike out in front of the hospital," John threatened. "I…"

"Something's off here," Ogilvy interjected. "Put my man back on the phone. I'm on my way. I'll call the Administrator immediately and alert her..."

--

John watched from the far end of the hall, barred from coming closer due to the sterile field maintained around the operating suites. "I cannot believe you are letting the NYPD decide when one of my patients is ready for surgery," Dr. Alexander Scott exclaimed, shooting a furious glare in the detective's direction. "I have looked at Ms. Dunbar's vitals and…"

"Dr. Scott, I understand your concerns," Allison Varney, Hospital Administrator, smoothly interjected, "but, you must admit it is… unusual that you have chosen to proceed without discussing her case with Dr. Matsoukis. He is heading up her treatment team and should be consulted prior to any decision being made to proceed. Given…"

John turned slightly as the doors to the hallway outside the row of surgical suites swept open… Dr. Gregory Matsoukis had arrived to join the fray. Striding quickly down the corridor, he demanded, "Why was I not consulted in the decision to schedule Samantha Dunbar for surgery? I told you this morning, Scott, she was running a fever… I suspected she had developed an infection around the wound in her side. Until that's under control, any surgery will have to wait… the risk of complications is too great."

Glaring at his colleague, Scott insisted, "I do not need your permission to treat my patient in any the way I see fit. Now I suggest you all get out of…"

The hospital administrator broke into his tirade. "And I must insist that you follow established hospital protocols for dealing with our patient's care. Dr. Matsoukis is leading her treatment team and should have been consulted prior to prepping her for surgery. You are also aware of the fact that Ms. Dunbar has been placed under special security restrictions following the attack that caused her injuries. None of the mandatory security checks were made and you have several personnel on your surgical team that have not been authorized…"

"I refuse to submit to the authority of a bunch of rent-a-cops when it comes to decisions about my surgical team," Scott shouted, drawing the nervous attention of personnel working in the other suites. "I repeat… get out of my way…"

A loud noise behind them broke into whatever he was about to say. A nurse, hovering in the doorway to the suite Scott was using, had dropped the tray of instruments she was holding. She was staring blindly at the clutter of implements at her feet, seemingly oblivious to the attention she had drawn. Several seconds passed before she became aware of the fact that all eyes had turned in her direction.

With a panicked cry, she pivoted on her heel and ran down the hall in John's direction. "I'll… I'll get someone to clean that up…"

Acting on instinct, John moved into her path and blocked her from leaving the hallway. He had been a cop too long not to recognize someone in a panic… two someones if he was any judge of people. "I think you need to stay where you are until we get to the bottom of this."

Frantic blue eyes turned to look toward Dr. Scott before she tried to push her way past the determined policeman. "Let me go… I need to find him! Davy needs me!!"

Spinning her around so that he could pin her arms behind her back, John nodded to the security guard as he stepped up to assist him in restraining the thrashing woman. "Who the hell is Davy?"

Looking back toward the group at the end of the hall, John watched as Scott slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor. His body language radiated defeat. "Davy is our son… they took him… said they'd kill him if I didn't…"

Dr. Matsoukis turned worried eyes toward the operating suite. Shoving past the others, he disappeared inside. John felt his heart begin to hammer as the sound of raised voices could be heard from within. Matsoukis' shouted for those inside to stop whatever they were doing until he assessed the situation. More shouting followed.

Ogilvy knelt by the man at his feet. "Who has your son? What did they tell you to do to get him back?"

Tears began to pour down the man's pale face as he whispered, "I don't know who has him… two men pushed into Louise's apartment late last night and took him. I received an anonymous phone call early this morning… found her bound and gagged in the living room. Davy was gone. The note left in his crib said… they would kill him if… I had to kill Samantha Dunbar… make it look like complications from her injury. The infection… seemed to offer me a chance…"

The door to the surgical suite swung open before he could say more and a gurney carrying Sam's unconscious form rolled into the hallway. Matsoukis began pushing the gurney in John's direction as he ordered, "Ogilvy… get some of your men up here on the double. I want Ms. Dunbar back in her bed and under guard as quickly as we can make it happen. Secure the OR and don't let anyone leave. Detective, you might want to call for back-up. I think there are several people on Dr. Scott's team that have some explaining to do."

Pulling out his cell phone, John made the call. Pocketing it once he was done, he pulled his gun and joined the group of guards clustering around Sam. Noting that she was unconscious… her skin a sickly grayish white, he demanded, "Is she OK?"

"I need to get her back to her room before I know for sure," the doctor responded. "I think she's just asleep… anesthesia of some type I'm guessing, but I'll have to have a blood sample tested to be sure. She's stable for now, so I thought it was best to get her back to her room first."

"Right," John agreed, grabbing onto the railing of the gurney as it began to roll toward the elevators. "What happened in the OR?"

"When I got inside… a nurse was injecting something into her IV port. I suspect your raising the alarm saved her life, Detective," the doctor offered, clearly stunned by the day's events. "You heard me instruct them to stop whatever they were doing. The nurse giving her the shot froze momentarily… I could see the frantic look on her face. She was about to inject the rest when Stephanie Olsen… she's an anesthesiologist… grabbed her arm and stopped her. Steph knocked the syringe to the floor… she and a couple of orderlies restrained the woman while I got the rest of the team to help me get Samantha out of there."

"Damn!"

"What the hell is going, Det.? I've been on staff at this hospital for over twenty years and I've never seen anything like this!" he exclaimed, his focus trained on woman in the gurney. The frown on his face darkened as he timed the thready pulse beating against his fingertips.

Grimly, John scanned the area outside the surgical wing for additional threats as he processed the information he had available. "I don't know yet, Doc, but I damned well intend to find out. And, I'd say you and Dr. Olsen were the ones to save her life. Thank you."

"Well, we wouldn't have known there was a problem until it was too late if you hadn't raised the alarm," the doctor countered, following the gurney onto the elevator.

John took her good hand in a possessive hold. "I'll settle for being lucky," left his lips for the second time in two days as the doors closed behind them.

--

Don Cragen exited the elevator down the hall from the ICU less than fifty minutes later. He was followed by Olivia, Elliot, and Casey. It did not come as any surprise to John when Jack McCoy also emerged and joined the others congregating near the double-doors to the intensive care unit.

"OK, John," Cragen ordered. "What do we know?"

"I got a call from Fin… Cambiati died from a morphine overdose. He wanted me to double check security around our vics," John began. "I had just arrived at ICU to visit Sam… talk with her about Jack's request when I got his call. I was surprised to hear they had taken her for surgery… it wasn't what she had been expecting yesterday. Something just seemed… off and I decided to go with paranoid and take the heat if I was wrong later. Glad I did."

"Always go with your strengths," Cragen agreed. "What then?"

Motioning toward a small waiting area… empty for the moment, John led the way inside. "Turns out her primary physician had already talked to the eye specialist… Alexander Scott, an ophthalmologic surgeon. She's running a fever from an infection around the knife wound. Matsoukis had decided any surgery would have to wait until he had a handle on that. The eye doctor moved ahead after he left… literally behind his back. I managed to get them to stop prepping her until I got some answers about her security. My call to the hospital's security chief took him by surprise… he didn't know she was out of her room either."

"What's the part about a missing baby?" Olivia demanded, trading a grim look with her partner.

Raking his hand through his hair, John repeated what he had overheard in the surgical wing hallway. "My first priority was getting Sam back to her room. Ogilvy and I have detained everyone that was in the surgical suite… he and his men have them under guard in a conference room next to the Administrator's office. I have a half-dozen uniforms sitting on the doctor and the two nurses until we interview them… each is in a separate room."

"How's Samantha?" Jack asked.

"No word yet," the detective replied. "Dr. Matsoukis is having her blood analyzed to see what she was given. She was unconscious when he got to her… hasn't come to yet. He said he'd let me know as soon as he knew anything."

"Good work, John. You and I will talk to Scott," Cragen detailed, getting down to business. "Liv, you take the nurse that's apparently the child's mother. Elliot, you take the one with the syringe. Counselors… you're welcome to sit in on the interviews… your choice."

"Why don't Casey and I sit second chair for your detectives, Don?" McCoy offered. "Casey… you want the mother or the shooter?"

--

"I don't care what you do to me," Alex Scot began, rising from his chair as the two veteran policemen entered the room where he was being detained, "just find my son!"

"In order for us to do that, Doctor," Cragen observed, "You need to tell us what happened… everything. I have to advise you that you have the right to legal counsel before we begin. Do you want to call a lawyer?"

"We don't have time for that!"

"Are you voluntarily waving your rights… because anything you say may be used against for the attempted murder of Samantha Dunbar? If she dies as a result of your actions, those charges could be upped to murder," the police captain stressed.

"I understand that, but if I stay quiet, any chance of getting my son back alive will be lost," he insisted, bloodshot grey eyes holding Cragen's gaze. "I'll do whatever I have to do get Davy home safely."

Pulling a waiver card out of the inner pocket of his jacket, Cragen extended in Scott's direction. The doctor grabbed it and signed his name. "I waive my rights, OK?"

"All right. Tell us about the call you received this morning," John prompted, taking a seat at the table across from their suspect.

Dropping wearily into the chair he had previously occupied, Scott pillowed his head in his heads. His voice was slightly muffled as he offered, "I got a call around 3:30 this morning... woke my wife and me. The caller said they had taken Davy and, if I ever wanted to see my son alive again, I had to make sure Ms. Dunbar didn't survive long enough to leave ICU. I rushed out… went to Louise's place. She was unconscious… bound and gagged on the floor of the living room. Davy's crib was empty…"

--

"…Alex woke me… it must have been around 4:00. Davy was gone," Louise Robinson sobbed. "There was a note in his crib… said Samantha Dunbar had to die if we wanted our baby back. It made us both sick to think of killing anyone… but… he's just a baby!! What else could we do?"

--

"…Davy is my grandson," Margie Robinson supplied, her voice a flat monotone. "Louise is my daughter. I got her a job working with me at Dr. Scott's practice when she moved back to New York after her divorce. They began having an affair two years ago… I told her it would lead to heart-break sleeping with a married man. Guess I was right. They came to me early this morning and told me what had happened… asked for my help. I wanted to go to the police, but… the note said they would know if we did, so…"

--

"…the note warned us they would kill Davy if we went to the authorities."

"Do you know how they kidnapped the child?" Cragen demanded.

Nodding, Scott supplied, "Louise said she had just gotten home from work… her arms were full…"

--

"… Davy in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other. Two men forced their way in the door past me…"

--

"… they put a rag over her mouth… chloroform I guess. She doesn't remember anything else until…"

--

"…I woke her up when I got there this morning… a little after 4. She didn't get a good look at the men…"

--

"… they were big, maybe 6'1" or 2"… rough. They were wearing ski masks… I could see their eyes… both of them had pale, blue-grey eyes. Their eyebrows were dark, but I can't say whether they were black or dark brown. It was like looking into a mirror... their eyes and mouth looked the same… except one had a gold tooth… here in front."

"What else can you tell us, Ms. Robinson?" Liv pressed.

Frantic eyes lifted to meet hers. "They spoke a foreign language. One of them began swearing when I kneed him in the groin…"

--

"… he began to swear…she said it sounded like he was speaking Russian or one of the other Eastern European languages…"

--

"… since the person that called me had a Russian accent, I assumed they were Russian."

"You're sure that both the men that attacked Ms. Robinson," John repeated, "and the man that called you spoke Russian or had Russian accents?"

"Yes. I am quite sure about the one that called me. He used several phrases I remember my grandmother used… she was from St. Petersburg and I recognized the accent."

--

"Yes. Russian or something like that…"

--

"That's what they both told me. Is there any hope we will get Davy back?"

--


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Blind, Chapter 18

Title: Blind, Chapter 18

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 18

--

"So… we're operating under the assumption the Russian Mob is involved in both the kidnapping of Davy Scott and the murders down in Atlantic City?" Jack McCoy summarized. "Det. Tutuola… have the AC police been able to find anyone with Mob connections that fit the descriptions they have of the shooters?"

Fin leaned back against the wall of the interrogation room on the third floor of the 16th precinct. "Not as of my last conversation with them… ten or so minutes ago. I made a call to the NYPD's Organized Crime Task Force on the drive back… asked them to see what we have that might fit. I expect to hear from them by the end of the day."

"Call them back when we're done here. Talk to Captain Erica Larsson and alert her to the kidnapping… ask her to add our two to the list," Cragen ordered. "Elliot… Liv, did your search of Louise Robinson's apartment turn up anything?"

"CSU found soil deposits near the door… looks like they may have been carried into the apartment by the kidnappers. Hopefully, an analysis of its composition can tell us where they've been lately," Elliot offered. "Burt Trevor said it looked like it had a lot of sand in the mix. We should know more by tomorrow."

"The note was lying on the floor next to the couch," Olivia reported, picking up the report. "The only prints were the parents. CSU found eight other prints in the living room and nursery, but I'm not expecting much since Louise said the kidnappers wore gloves."

"They are still sorting through the trace evidence but they didn't find much to work with. Louise had apparently vacuumed the night before after Davy pulled over a plant and played in the potting soil," Elliot supplied. "There was an apple core on top of the trash… there were apples in the groceries she was carrying. Louise said she didn't eat it, so we should be able to extract DNA evidence if one of the kidnappers is the one that had the snack. Burt promised to let us know as soon as they had anything… especially if they can find us a match."

"Canvas of the area didn't turn up much," Liv added. "No one saw two men loitering around her floor. No one remembers seeing two men and a baby leaving the building. No one remembers seeing anything that made them suspicious. Only useful lead was one lady remembered seeing two men she thought were twins in the lobby as she was leaving for an early dinner. They kept their backs to her, but… same height, weight, same shade of dark brown hair. Both in jeans and t-shirts… muscular… no obvious tats or scars that she noticed. May fit with what Louise said about their eyes being mirror images."

"John, what about the phone call Dr. Scott received?" Casey asked.

"Deadend… came from a throw-away cell phone," he began. "I had them try to triangulate the area where the call was made. Best they could say the callers were on the BQE near Atlantic Avenue. Call only lasted for 1:48. The vehicle was heading south…. toward Brighton Beach, but they were still too far away to make that a sure thing."

"Yeah, a few miles closer… maybe," Casey groused. "Did you talk with his wife?"

"Mrs. Scott was not pleased to find out her husband and the mother of his child were under arrest. Dr. Scott can expect a visit from her lawyer," John added, a slight smirk curling one side of his mouth. "Other than that, she confirmed the time of the call. He took off without saying anything to her. She picked up the call initially… it was a man with a heavy accent. More than that she couldn't say… 'Russian maybe'."

"So, she didn't know about her husband's affair… Davy?" McCoy pressed

"She denied knowing about the baby, but admitted she had begun to suspect he was cheating on her with his nurse," John clarified. "I didn't get much out of her other than the call came in on the land-line rather than his cell. He has only given his cell number a handful of people… hates talking on the phone apparently. Their home number is unlisted, but available through the hospital. That may mean whoever is behind the kidnapping didn't know Dr. Scott well enough to have the cell number and used the house number because it was easier to find. That rules out those closest to him… unless that was a diversion."

"Did you get any vibe she might have been involved in the kidnapping?" Cragen prompted. "We need to rule her out."

"Not that I could get, but… I can ask Palmieri to nose around her background… her bank and phone records to see if anything pops," John concluded, making a note to do that first thing on Monday. "She seemed genuinely shocked and hurt to find out about the baby."

"You said something that has me thinking," Fin interjected. "Who has access to the hospital records? That was the only way they could have known who the eye specialist was that took Sam's case. Would Phelps be able to access that type of information or did he get it from someone else? Be nice to link him to Sam's confidential records and Scott's contact info. Lucy's too… maybe get a heads up if he has anything planned for her."

"Good point," Cragen agreed. "John, follow up on that. Let Casey know if they throw up roadblocks."

"Parents still opposed to taking Davy's picture public?" McCoy asked, leaning back in his chair and lacing his hands behind his head. "It may be our only option for getting a lead on where he is."

"For now," Olivia sighed. "Under the circumstances, I can't blame them, but… we need to find him as quickly as possible."

"Fin, rather than calling OCTF, take a run over to One PP and show them a picture of Davy. Maybe putting a face with his name will motivate them to help find us a likely pair," Cragen instructed. "Also, see what they can tell you about Andrew Phelps… see if his name has turned up in their investigations."

"I'll head out now," he responded, gathering his notes before leaving.

"John, did you get a chance to follow up on Winthrop files… find out who sabotaged their server?" the ADA questioned. "Since his lawyers were trying the hardest to keep us from getting our hands on those files, he may be behind that too… I'd put serious money on that being the case."

"Not yet, but I plan to follow-up in the morning," John answered. "The Lilly Stevik case took priority yesterday. Morales is pretty sure the worm was deliberately uploaded directly onto the server from the computer in the records room at the school. I'll go by and see Dr. Adams. Maybe she can give me a list of who has access to that particular PC. If we can find the one that uploaded the worm, we'll find out who was behind it."

"You may also want to issue arrest warrants for Jodi Williams and Sarah Liebman," Elliot inserted. "We've sifted through all the information we have… I sent you my witness statement from Martin Danvers. Both girls were involved. Hell, Sarah confessed the whole thing to Martin, which led to his being there."

"I volunteer to go to Europe and escort them back," John offered, grinning at the snort of amusement from his CO. "I promise to track them down regardless of the personal sacrifice… leave no stone unturned, no Chateau unsearched… no vineyard un-tasted or baguette unbuttered. I can start on the Rivera and work my way north."

"Your sacrifice is commendable," Cragen deadpanned, relieved to have a momentary diversion, "but I think we'll ask for help from Interpol for now… see if we can get a US Marshall to bring them home."

"I've read through Steven Phelps file while we were waiting on the detectives to get back with their reports. It only underscores how dangerous this kid is. I can see why his father would want to prevent us from getting a look at them. His doctors prescribed several powerful drugs… which prove his parents know he's violent and in need of professional supervision. That support's what Danvers told you about this kid," McCoy observed. "Do we have the tape or is the Judge still tying our hands?"

"Judge Petrovsky lifted her order this morning, so we have free access to the package," Casey confirmed. "While we here, I'd like to see what we have. Don?"

"I was hoping you would say that," Don agreed, rising to head toward his office. "Hang on and I'll grab it. I'm getting almost as paranoid as John. I posted a uni to guard my office and the safe while we were out. I'll be happy to verify the tape's contents and get copies made so it's secure once and for all. I don't think we need to underestimate how far Phelps will go to get his hands on the tape… destroy it. I think we need several copies to be safe."

"Assuming it is the tape," Jack cautioned.

Glancing his way, Cragen offered, "I held the package in my hands… gave it a good once over. It's a tape. I'm curious what else is in the packet."

--

"I've been with the DA's office for over thirty years, but… some things you just never get used to… get tough enough to watch unmoved," McCoy murmured, rubbing his eyes as if to erase the mental images of what they had just viewed. "Casey, Steven Phelps needs to be arranged on charges of felony rape and aggravated battery of the minor Rosa Alvarez as soon as you can draft the warrant. Arthur needs that charge to support a decision to charge him as an adult in both cases."

"I'll handle it first thing in the morning," she agreed, her normally pale complexion drained of any color. "What about the other assaults Cambiati listed in his affidavit? Do we have enough to file on them too?"

"We talked to the parents of some of those kids, but we have a lot more work to do to be able to put together a case on them," Elliot replied, staring blindly at the table in hopes of staving off the nausea that threatened to recall his lunch. "Most of the parents aren't going to be willing to press charges if it means they have to expose their children to a trial… and I can't say I blame them. Don't we have enough to get him on the other two? Hell, can you even get Cambiati's statement on the record?"

"Those cases need to be fully investigated before any decision is made. The other evidence he mentioned in his statement… you need to get that collected today, Don," McCoy advised. "We can't risk having it getting away from us."

"Elliot and Olivia will collect it when we're done here. Take back-up and be careful," their captain ordered. "Have CSU log it in as soon as you get there and have someone photograph it to document we have it. It needs to be locked up tight to make sure it doesn't disappear before trial."

Seeing them nod their understanding, McCoy continued. "As I was saying, Casey should be able to use it all. If you can link his murder to Phelps, it all becomes evidence in both cases… will send him away for life. The more we can conclusively tie to Steven, the longer he'll serve."

"We'll hit the pavement first thing tomorrow and see if can put together cases on the other attacks," Cragen replied, his tone subdued. "Can we go after Andrew Phelps for obstruction, witness tampering… accessory after the fact for covering up all of this? I want this bastard sitting beside his son at Rikers so he can't keep hurting people while we build our case. Hell, both parents knew this kid was dangerous and did nothing to control him. They both should be held accountable for that failure."

"I'll convene a grand jury to start hearing the charges against him on Monday," Casey agreed. "We have more than enough to support the initial charges, but I'll need more when we go to trial. Did we ever find out where Phelps had Rosa stashed while she recovered? I'd also like to know who altered the records at the INS… anyone that took payoffs to keep quiet about what he was doing. I want enough to make our case bulletproof."

"Still working on finding the clinic," John relied. "This case keeps sprouting new heads, so we have a long list of leads still to tie down."

"Bulletproof… your choice of words isn't just hyperbole, Counselor," Cragen observed, when John failed to say more. "At least four people are dead… two others are still recovering from last night's shooting and three more are still in the hospital from Tuesday night. There's been a second attempt on Samantha Dunbar's life… a child has been kidnapped. We're all in the crosshairs until this case is behind us. I don't think I need to stress how important it is that we all be cautious and take adequate precautions."

--

"We have no basis to resend his privileges, Det.," Allison Varney, the hospital's administrator contended. "And, unless you can conclusively link this morning's events to him, I doubt we will. Until the Board terminates his privileges, I need formal charges brought against him showing that he used his access with the intent of causing harm to one of our patients before I can administratively pulling his clearances."

"The longer we wait, we leave Samantha Dunbar and Lucy Hellman vulnerable to his abuse of this position," John complained, his frustration with the day's events showing.

"I understand your frustration and I'll call an emergency board meeting to consider rescinding his privileges for mid-week. I'll do it myself if he's formally charged in the attempt on Ms. Dunbar's life, detective," she restated. "Until then, there isn't anything I can do."

Nodding grudgingly, John asked, "Is there any way to see if he's accessed the files on either woman?"

"If he used his personal ID, yes, but he may have other ways… other doctors, nurses, lab personnel have varying levels of access," she replied. "I can have my IP director run you a report on activity using his account, but I doubt he was that obvious or careless enough to leave a trail. I would think he found other ways to get the information he needed… assuming he was involved in the incident this morning."

Frowning, John ignored her last comment, asking instead, "Can they generate a report showing any userID that accessed or attempted to access either Sam or Lucy's files?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "I would need a written authorization from both before I could turn it over… patient records are privileged. And Lucy Hellman's records shouldn't concern you after Monday. Unless something happens, her doctor plans to release her then."

Unsure whether or not this news was a relief or cause for new worry, he concluded his conversation with the Administrator and went in search of the teen's parents. They needed to be apprised on the latest developments as they related to their daughter. Moving Lucy out of the relative safety of the hospital would mean she was exposed. He needed to make sure they were ready.

--

"Andrew Phelps… that name doesn't ring any bells," Erica Larsson, the captain heading up the Organized Crime Task Force, mused. "What can you tell me about him that might help us tie him to known members of the Russian Mob?"

"He's a doctor… a neurosurgeon," Fin offered. "He's part of a practice on the Upper East Side. His wife is the daughter of Saul Rosenthal… sister of Marianna Danvers. He's wired into power at every level, Captain."

"So, why do you think he's also Mob connected?" she asked. "He doesn't fit the profile."

"His two sons were involved in the Central Park assault last Tuesday night," Fin replied. "One of the vics is the Danvers' son. According to Jack Danvers, his brother-in-law has a second life hidden from the one on the society pages. He said the rumors are Phelps has a Russian mistress with Mob ties. He also said Phelps has a thing for risky ventures… living on the edge. He's heard rumors Phelps was the public money fronting several Mob ventures... including a development out west that went belly-up and left a bunch of smaller investors holding."

Holding Fin's gaze, she repeated, "Phelps is a doctor?"

"Yeah," he agreed, intrigued by the sudden interest lighting her deep blue eyes. "Does that help?"

Sliding the keyboard of her desktop toward her, Larsson began to type. "It might. In fact, it might just give us the break we've been looking for in one of our investigations for the last two years."

--

4/20/2008


	19. Chapter 19

Sorry for the delay in updating. RL has been too real lately!

Title: Blind, Chapter 19

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/Benson, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 19

"Is she awake?"

Susie Webber looked up from the chart in her hands. She had just finished adding the most recent readings of Sam's vitals to her ICU history. Sighing, she shook her head. "Not at the moment. She's woken up a couple of times since the aesthesia began to wear off. It made her terribly sick. That's the last thing she needed. We've given her anti-nausea meds… hopefully that will prevent a repeat when she wakes up again."

Frowning, John moved to stand at the foot of her bed. "You've put her in an oxygen tent?"

Motioning toward the door, the nurse led him back out of the room and over to her station. "I don't think she's awake enough to hear us talking, but I don't want to upset her if she is," she explained. "She aspirated a little of the vomit when she was sick. Dr. Matsoukis is worried about the possibility of pneumonia in addition to the risk from infection. Her breathing is slightly labored… she has fluid in the left lung."

Looking over his shoulder into her room, John exclaimed, "She has pneumonia?"

"He hasn't officially said, but I know she's vulnerable to getting it," Susie hedged. "Between her broken ribs and the knife wound in her side, we've had to be careful about moving her around too much."

Glancing at the clock on the wall behind the nurse's station, she made a mental note of the time… 9:14 p.m. "We're monitoring her respiratory rate very closely and doing what we can to keep her lungs clear. Dr. Matsoukis wants to boost the oxygen levels in her blood and make it easier for her to breathe. The tent will help with that. We'll probably take it down tomorrow once he assesses her response to the new meds."

Turning his head back to meet her steady gaze, John asked, "How bad is the infection?"

"So far it's localized to the area around the wound in her side. Her fever spiked after we got he got her back to the room after…" she began, only to falter from the lingering shock over the failed plan to kill her patient. "The doctor upped her antibiotic intake and had us put up the tent. She isn't strong enough to withstand another setback right now, so we need to get this knocked out quickly."

"Is she…" he began, only to pause, unable to complete the question for the sudden tightening of his chest. "Is her condition… failing?"

Hesitating, the nurse finally offered, "It's too soon to assume the worst, but her condition is very serious. This morning's events weakened her… she wasn't strong enough for surgery as Dr. Matsoukis told that bastard Scott. If you hadn't…"

Taking a deep breath to steady her emotions, she continued. "The anesthesia made her sick and that, added her prior injuries and the infection… the possibility of pneumonia… it's really doing a number on her body. She lost a lot of blood Tuesday night and her body hasn't had time to recover from the first trauma before she got hit with the others."

"So…"

"If she responds to the antibiotics and the oxygen therapy, she'll start to improve quickly," Susie predicted. "We need to keep her relaxed… minimize the stress she is feeling over the uncertainty about her eyes… hell, the uncertainty she must be feeling about a lot of things, and let her body have time to recover."

Turning to look back at the woman in the bed, her face blurred by the protective veils of the oxygen tent, he forced himself to ask, "How soon… before you know… if…?"

"The next twelve to twenty-four hours," Susie answered, reaching out to pat his arm in silent comfort. "Dr. Matsoukis wants me to draw a blood sample at midnight and see if there's any improvement. He's gone home for now, but said he'd be back around 12:30 to see how she's doing. You're welcome to sit with her, John. She seems to respond positively to having you around."

Nodding mutely, John walked back into her room. Pulling the hard, straight chair he had used on previous visits a little closer to the bed, he reached out to cover her hand where it lay on top of the sheets, the cool, slick surface of the tent oddly disturbing to his senses. He had grown used to the feel of her soft skin under his hand. The plastic seemed to underscore just how serious her condition had become.

He didn't need to ask if it was a bad sign her doctor had indicated he would be back to check on his patient after midnight. Sam was fighting for her life and there was nothing he could do but watch, wait… and pray.

"It's John, Sam," he whispered, bending as close as he could to the protective shield. "I'm here. You're not alone. Fight… please fight, Sam. I know… I know it's too soon… but… I can't loose you. Please, Sam… fight."

--

He would never know… Sam would not remember, at least not on any conscious level, but she heard him. A part of her, one hurt by years of abuse and neglect, listened. Eva… changing her name hadn't changed how she thought of herself, heard his voice and recognized the genuine emotions… understood he cared.

If she had been strong enough to analyze her reactions with her usual exacting logic, she would have scoffed at the notion that she had been waiting to hear that voice all of her life, but the weakness of her body allowed her emotions to overcome the tight control she had erected over them in the wake of her parents' sudden deaths… her husband's brutality… her brother's desertion… the loss of her unborn children. Somewhere in the midst of it all, she had stopped feeling and had accepted an empty, lonely life as her lot. Instinct told her John understood what that meant… that maybe he felt that way himself.

The day her last baby had died, four months premature and stillborn from her husband's abuse, had changed her. Eva had gathered her feelings into a tight ball and pressed them deep inside herself hoping to keep them… her, safe from further pain. Her pleasant, but reserved smile kept her new co-workers at a safe distance. She had skillfully deflected the interest of any man that might have shown an interest. She got up in the morning, went to work, methodically dispensed with the humdrum business of her day, then scurried home to her tiny apartment hoping no one had really noticed her. Her cat Megan was the only living thing she let herself care about.

That was her life. There had only been two exceptions to that pattern. The first had been her impulsive decision to join the anti-war rally a few months earlier… she had been walking past the noisy crowd with no intension of lingering when a flash of the intense passions that had once been so much a part of her nature wiggled free from the tight stranglehold she kept on them. She hadn't slept for a week after her arrest, terrified Richard or someone that knew her would recognize her from the blurry picture in the paper… or that a paid flunky of his father would recognize her social security number on an incident report.

The second had been Tuesday night in Central Park. Lucy's cries for help had reawakened echoes of her own pleas… pleas that had fallen on death ears. Her brother… her in-laws… the police… people she had thought were her friends… they had all looked away and waited for someone else to stick their neck out to help her and risk the ire of her husband's powerful family. In the end, she had been forced to run away, leaving huge pieces of herself behind in the process. Eva was forced to become Sam. Sam was but a pale reflection of the original woman, but she had been safe… free from the need to scream in vain for help that never came… until she had heard the cries of another woman in trouble.

The sight of another crowd watching an attack from a safe distance had triggered an uncontrollable anger… a need to do something, anything to help. Even with her injuries… the threat of being discovered by her husband… of being left blind, she did not regret that decision. She knew she would never have been able to live with herself had she turned away in fear… knew the guilt would have smothered the last traces of her spirit. She knew what that felt like to cry out and be ignored… she would rather die than she inflected that knowledge on someone else.

Still, she was tired. She was scared. She was lonely and dispirited. A part of her had begun to question the reason for fighting to get better, especially if she was left blind and helpless… but a man's voice called to her, promised she wasn't alone. Eva heard John's plea for her to fight… not to let go.

His whispered words sparked something deep inside her, something that rebelled against her sterile existence. Eva **knew** John's voice. She didn't care that it defied logic to believe that… she simply did. She cared for him… and somehow she knew he cared for her in return. Something in his voice, his presence comforted… tantalized… beaconed.

It all happened without conscious thought… no long belabored internal debate to analyze each and every detail. Eva wanted to be free; she wanted to again be the fiery, passionate woman she had once been, not the timid, uncertain shadow Richard had beaten into submission. Eva stopped resisting the tide of emotions John's presence unleashed… and gave 'Samantha' a hard shove out of their emotional cocoon.

It was time to stop hiding. It was time to demand the right to live her life, true to her own nature. It was time to start over… in earnest this time, not just her name and address, but her attitude… maybe start again with the man whose voice called to her. She was ready to become Samantha in truth… though she had secretly come to prefer 'Sam' if he was the one speaking.

A soft smile curled her lips as the warmth of his hand finally penetrated the thick plastic separating their bare skin. John's heart skipped a beat at the sight. In the years to come, he would often tell her… that was the moment he knew he had fallen in love. 'Eva' would sigh contentedly, secretly knowing it was when she had too.

--

Fin glanced over at his dinner companion as he added a little more cheese to his pasta. Olivia had suggested a small Italian place near her apartment when they had finally finished their last report and called it a day. They were both exhausted, physically and mentally. Neither had bothered to comment on the amused, knowing grins on the faces of their colleagues as they had left the squadroom together. That could wait for another day.

"This case is starting to remind me of that stupid magician's trick… the one with the handkerchiefs in the pocket... pull one out thinking it's the end only to find another one tied to the end," Liv complained, leaning over to spear a chuck of sausage off of Fin's plate. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Hey, no stealing!" he complained before snagging a large piece of her chicken in retaliation. "I know what you mean… the attack in the park to the shootings to the other assaults to the kidnapping… the attempt on Samantha Dunbar's life… weird shit that's for damned sure."

Pausing to sip from her glass of wine, Liv commented, "If we can't cut Phelps off from his money and Mob friends… I'm not sure what we can do to keep her or Lucy safe. And then there's Rosa Alvarez and her parents…"

"Just hope the Honduran police are taking our warning seriously," he agreed, before falling silent so that he could concentrate on his food. He hadn't eaten since early morning and he had finished most of his meal before he realized it.

Nodding to the waiter as he put a second beer in front of him, Fin asked, "Liv… baby, am I wrong to be worried about John? Seems to me he's getting too close to Samantha Dunbar… maybe falling for her. Don't see that lasting and… he's not as tough as he wants people to think. Could ruin him… assuming he's not there already."

Sighing, she agreed. "Yeah, I've noticed it too. I started to say something, then McCoy seemed to be encouraging him to stick close to her for her protection. I think Don is uncomfortable about the situation too."

"Damn! I got no clue what to say to him," Fin complained, reaching for the last of the bread. "John is my best friend and I owe him big… we'd still be blind to this if it wasn't for him."

Reaching over to take his hand, Liv offered, "Would it be easier for me to talk to him? We've been talking a lot more since that night… real talk, not just work."

"Maybe," Fin replied, distracted by the feel of her hand on his. "Let's see where it goes this week… best not to get involved if we can help it, 'cos John's not one to like being lectured."

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one!" she teased, her cheeks flushing slightly from the sensations the gentle caress of his thumb to the top of her hand produced. "Keep that up and we'll never make it to desert."

A wicked grin proceeded, "I plan to have dessert… you got any chocolate sauce in your frig?"

--

John jerked awake, his neck screaming in protest at the uncomfortable angle he had assumed in his sleep… but then sleeping slumped over in an unpadded straight chair didn't offer many options for comfort. Bleary brown eyes slowly focused on the man standing on the other side of Sam's bed. Instinct had him reaching for his gun to protect her… only to relax as he recognized her doctor.

"Good morning, Detective," Greg Matsoukis greeted. "Remind me to ask Susie or Tonya to have an orderly bring up a recliner if you plan to make a habit of spending the night by Samantha's bed. Trying to sleep in one of those chairs goes way above and beyond the call of duty… even for the NYPD."

Hearing the good-natured teasing in the other man's voice, John tried to relax his tense muscles before he forced his body into an upright position. That movement made him aware of second fact… his hand had at some point in the night slipped under the barrier of the oxygen tent to grasp Sam's hand in a tight hold. A slight squeeze made him look up at her face.

A small smile peaked out from under the bandages covering her eyes telling him she was awake. The tent still made it impossible to clearly see her features… use the color in her cheeks as a barometer of her health, but she was smiling. That had to be a good sign. Her soft, "Good morning," had to be another.

A croaky, "Good morning," of his own had him clearing his throat before trying again. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak," she admitted. "You didn't have to… thanks."

Squeezing her hand in response, John looked over at the smirking man making notes on her chart. "Well… is she better? …her fever?"

"Samantha improved significantly overnight," Matsoukis replied, glancing briefly in John's direction. "Her fever is down and her lungs are clearer. The anti-nausea medications seem to have done their job… but I think we'll stick to something light and bland for breakfast this morning, Samantha. No point in tempting fate."

"If you don't have any further side-effects from the anesthesia, I'll allow you to have a more substantial lunch," he added, seeing her grimace in response her proposed meal. "I'm going to leave you under the oxygen tent for the rest of the day and keep the antibiotic regime at the current dosages. If you continue to improve, I may let them take down the tent this evening. Any questions?"

"Just feel so weak," she murmured, her thumb beginning to stroke the side of John's hand.

"We're giving you a series of vitamin and iron injections to boost your system, so that will help," he replied. "You lost a lot of blood following the attack on Tuesday night, so it will take time for your body to recharge itself. Until then, we want to prevent your becoming anemic. What else?"

"How did… my surgery…" she began, only to flounder as the fear of bad news swamped her. John tightened his hold on her hand as he felt a shiver run through her body.

Trading a look with John, the doctor hedged his answer. "Dr. Scott and I had a difference of opinion about that. I was concerned you were too weak for the surgery, so I intervened and had you brought back to your room before he got started. I consulted another specialist and she feels we can safely wait a few more days before we try again. For now, I need you to concentrate on getting stronger while we take care of that infection."

"But…"

"I honestly believe you were too weak for the surgery, Samantha. Considering how badly you reacted to the anesthesia, I was proven right," he insisted. "Don't worry. Dr. Matheson is one of the best in the country; she will be by to see you in the morning. She's seen your test results along with the rest of your chart and she agrees with my decision. OK?"

A soft, worried, "OK," alerted both men to the fact she was not convinced. They had discussed how much to tell her about what had happened in the OR the day before and Matsoukis had made the decision to wait until she was stronger to tell her everything. Medically, he had told her the absolute truth. The news that her surgeon had hoped to use her weakened state to kill her could wait until later.

Frankly, he didn't want to risk her panicking and loosing trust in the team caring for her… though she had every right to that reaction. He couldn't run the risk she would demand to be transferred to another hospital until she was strong enough to survive the move. One more serious setback would be one too many in his opinion.

Patting her arm, he soothed, "First things first. Relax and let us take care of you. The infection seems to be responding to the antibiotics… you're breathing more freely and you're more alert this morning than you were last night. Let's keep that trend going and you should be strong enough for the surgery in a few days."

"But… my eyes…"

"We haven't lost the opportunity to treat your eyes, Samantha," he promised. "Dr. Matheson agrees the surgery we discussed will improve your eyesight, but you need to be stronger before we risk it. And…I have already warned you there's likely to be some level of permanent impairment even with treatment. This delay hasn't changed that prognosis. Your general health is our top priority at the moment, but we haven't forgotten the rest. OK?"

Her "OK," seemed a little more genuine this time. Both men knew the specter of being left blind from her injuries haunted her. Sadly, neither had any promises to give that would relieve her mind.

Hearing the difference in her tone of voice, Matsoukis patted her arm a second time before taking his leave. "I'll be back to check on you later today, Samantha. Rest and relax as much as you can. I think Det. Munch brought you a couple of books on CD's at the gift shop. Listen to those when you feel up to it, but I'd prefer for you to rest as much as you can. Don't tire yourself by worrying about things we'll face tomorrow."

The couple in the room fell into an easy silence after the doctor left. Under the circumstances, there wasn't much for them to say, so they simply held hands and let the rest of the ICU come to them. John ignored and Sam was oblivious to the conspiratorial looks coming their way.

The day shift nurses bustled in and out… taking vitals, feeding her a cup of plain broth for her breakfast, plumping her pillows to make her more comfortable. Through it all, John sat at her side and held her hand. Sam did as she was told… answered questions, allowed them to pour the tepid, bland liquid into her mouth... endured their prodding and poking without complaint. Thought it all, her thumb gently stroked the side of his hand soothing his senses as much as hers.

--

7/20/08


	20. Chapter 20

Title: Blind, Chapter 20

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Feedback appreciated!!

Blind, Chapter 20

"Cap… I just got a call from the OC Task Force," Fin began, glancing over his shoulder as he changed lanes to move around a stopped taxi. "They gave me a list of possibles for our doers in the two cases. Warner got a hit on the DNA from the apple core… an ex-con named Anton Yegorov. He's one of the names on the list."

"I'm on my way to the stationhouse," Fin replied. "I talked to John earlier… he spent the night at the hospital and had just gotten home… needed to change into fresh clothes. He'll be at the station in an hour or so."

"Liv's with me. She talked to El… he's already there."

"Want us to call Casey?"

"OK, see you in a few."

Flipping his phone shut, Fin looked over at the woman sitting beside him. "How did it get to be Monday morning already? You still owe me a weekend all to ourselves."

Catching his hand, she agreed. "I'm just glad to have you sleeping next to me these days. My big, lonely bed suddenly seems the perfect size."

"Heard that… just wish we weren't both so tired, sleeping is about all we were doing in that bed."

--

"Anton has a twin brother… Mikhail," Fin reported, taping the mug shots of the two brothers to the perp board in SVU's squadroom. "Both have a long list of priors. Anton was paroled in June after a jolt at Sing-Sing for assault with intent. His twin got out of Attica a few weeks back… broke the leg of a shop owner who refused to pay protection to his boss."

Capt. Christina Larsson , head of the NYPD's Organized Crimes Task Force, picked up the report as she added a third picture to the board. "The Yegorov brothers work for a man named Leonid Mikhaylov. He's made a name for himself in the _Bratka_ over the last few years… ties to the _Obshina_, a militant criminal organization inside Russia… one with ties to Chechen revolutionaries. The US government has placed most of those groups on the terrorist watch list. We think Mikhaylov's group is funneling money to them, so Homeland Security is taking an interest in their activities." (A/N -- '_Bratka'_ means 'Brotherhood' in Russian, a name often used for the Russian Mob. _Obshina_ is a real criminal organization in Russia.)

"Just what we need, the Feds getting in our way," John muttered under his breath. In a louder voice, he asked, "How does Andrew Phelps, fine upstanding fellow that he is, fit into all of this… or does he?"

"Since Det. Tutuola paid us a visit yesterday, we've been looking into that," she replied, hiding an amused smirk at his 'unofficial' observation… an observation she agreed with most days. "Dr. Phelps appears to be the name we've been looking for over the last couple of years."

"How so?"

"We'd heard the name 'Doc' discussed in numerous conversations… 'Doc', American slang dropped into a stream of Russian. Until yesterday, we had no idea who he might be," she clarified. "To say Phelps has been staying under the radar is an understatement. Other than his Russian mistress… Selina Yegorov, he hasn't been seen in the company of anyone tied to the Russian Mob."

"Selina Yegorov?" Elliot repeated. "That's the same first name Danvers gave me… but Yegorov? She's related to our kidnappers?"

Adding the picture of an exotically pretty young woman to the others on the board, she offered, "Selina is their first cousin and Mikhaylov's niece. She hasn't been seen with any of her family since she moved into a one-bedroom condo on the Upper West Side last year. Phelps' purchased the condo, then transferred it to her name though a series of paper sales. Apparently, he was trying to distance himself from the original purchase and any obvious link Mikhaylov. My bet is Phelps keeps her on a tight leash so she can't lead us back to him."

"What do we know about her?" Olivia asked, cautiously sipping a cup of John's infamously strong coffee. Her grimace warned the rest of the squad that it could strip paint. She was too exhausted, however, to put the cup aside… she needed the caffeine too badly to be picky about taste.

"Not a lot… she doesn't have a record, at least not in this country," Larsson offered. "She arrived in New York last summer directly from Moscow. She was 17 at the time… entered on a student visa. She apparently attends classes at Hudson… music major… plays the cello. That's all we have on her. Frankly, her name wouldn't have been more than a footnote if we hadn't gotten your inquiry. She may provide the link we've been looking for to Doc's real name. Phelps is the first lead we've found that fits."

"So… have you been able to connect Phelps to any of Mikhaylov's activities or is the only connection we have the fact that Phelps' mistress is related to him?" Casey prompted. "I'm hoping for a clear link… ties to criminal activities… investments they made together. I want to put Phelps away for the rest of his life… maybe freeze his accounts so he looses the means to buy an outcome at trial."

"If Phelps is 'Doc', then I have that and more," the police captain supplied. "I'm looking for a way to prove he's our man. I'm hoping your case is going to connect the dots."

"First things first," Cragen interjected, irritated by the sudden ringing of Larsson's cell phone. "We have a missing baby. Finding him is our top priority."

Watching Larsson move to one side to take her call, he continued, "I say we camp out on the Yegorov brothers and see if they lead us to Davy Scott. If not, we bring them in for questioning on the strength of the DNA match. Either way, we can use the kidnap collar to get them to roll on both Phelps and Mikhaylov… but first we need to find Davy Scott."

"I figured you'd say that, Don," his counterpart interjected, a grin lighting her pretty face as she hung up her phone. "I had two of my undercovers start a tail on them last night. The brothers live in a house near Brighton Beach owned by their widowed mother."

"And?"

"That was one of them reporting in. Mrs. Yegorov was sitting in the backyard of the house, feeding a baby a bottle less than an hour ago," she announced, pleased by her officers' work. "She's in her sixties, so I doubt the baby's hers. Both of her sons were in prison until very recently, so they couldn't be the father of a baby that age… it must be Davy Scott. How do you want to do this?"

Grinning back, Cragen prompted, "I'm assuming you would prefer to call as little attention to your undercovers as possible, Chris… keep them viable?"

Seeing her nod, he proposed, "Then, let SVU front the arrests. Elliot arrange for tactical support from a Brooklyn ESU team. I'd like to get in position and see if we can determine where in the house they're keeping the baby before we go in… maybe see if we can confirm an ID on him before we make our move."

"I'll let the Chief of D's know what we've found so he can run interference if we hit any snags," he continued, the plan of action forming in his mind as he spoke. "We take them down, recover the child, and bring them back here for questioning. Casey, the arrest warrants need to link them to the DNA match and the witness statements. Leave any reference to the OCTF out of it for now. I'll make sure Samuels knows how much they helped… recognizes Captain Larsson and her squad for their efforts on the QT."

Hearing general agreement, he concluded, "Let's go. I want that baby safely in our hands by nightfall."

--

"Well, I'll be damned!"

Looking over Elliot's shoulder to see what had prompted his muttered reaction, John followed the line of the other detective's gaze to the backyard of the Yegorov house. They had been assigned position behind a dilapidated storage shed built at the back of the property next to an overgrown alley. An older woman with graying black hair had emerged from inside, a crying baby held protectively to her shoulder. The woman was attempting to sooth and comfort the distressed infant.

Before they could react, the screen door to the kitchen swung open behind her. A large, muscular man appeared in the doorway. "Make that fucking brat shut up will ya! I don't want people nosing around wondering why we have a baby. Either you shut him up or I will!"

The screened door slammed shut behind him. The woman began to pace, cooing to the baby in Russian as she tried to calm him. Her pacing brought her within a few feet of the shed. Both men clearly heard the name 'Davy' as she gently bounced the baby as she paused with her back to them… less than 6' away.

Trading a look with his partner, John murmured into his com link, "Cap… you seeing what we are? We need to move."

Getting an affirmative response in his earpiece, John watched as Elliot eased around the shed trying to get as close to the woman as possible. Their best chance at getting both the baby and his caretaker safely out of the line of fire before her sons realized what was happening was to take her unawares… from behind, clamp a hand over her mouth as they carried her back into the alley. John nodded his agreement to Elliot's hand motions… the brawny ex-Marine would grab the woman and he would grab the baby.

Feeling John take position behind him, Elliot took a deep breath and…

--

"The doctors gave Davy a clean bill of health. Apparently, Mrs. Yegorov took good care of him," Elliot reported, dropping wearily into his desk chair. "ACS is placing him in a foster home until a hearing can be scheduled on Dr. Scott's parents' petition for temporary custody."

"I called their lawyers and told them we recovered Davy in good health," Casey added. "They're handling telling his parents."

"I don't agree with what they did, but… I'm having a hard time not feeling for them," Elliot admitted. "If it had been one of my kids… I don't know what I would have done to get them back safely."

"Yeah," Fin agreed. "I've been asking myself that too. Just wish they had come to us… but I can understand they were in a panic. Having a baby snatched is a parent's worse nightmare."

"If they continue to be cooperative, I'm inclined to make them a deal," Casey mused, twisting off the top of a bottle of water. After taking a sip, she reasoned, "They aren't likely to do something like this again. Their careers are shot, but… I told their lawyers we could meet later this week to discuss their cases."

"Have we gotten anything out of the Yegorov twins?" Elliot asked, lacing his fingers together behind his head as he let his chair tilt back in a relaxed pose. "Didn't look like either of them was hurt bad enough to need to be admitted."

"Anton lost a lot of blood from the bullet to his leg… just missed the femoral artery," Cragen offered, as he and John emerged from his office. "He's still at Brooklyn General, but we're arranged for a detail to transport him to Bellevue's prison wing later tonight. His brother just arrived downstairs… Dawkins and Hernandez are bringing him up. The wound to his arm was superficial. He's crying for his lawyer, so we have to wait for him to get here along with the interpreter I requested before we can begin to question him."

"He speaks English," Fin observed, glancing over at his partner. "Why we need an interpreter since John speaks Ruskie?"

"I planning on you and John handling the interrogation and I'd prefer they not know John speaks the language," Cragen explained. "The interpreter is for the rest of us. Chris says his lawyer… man named Yuri Vasilyev, is one of the _Bratka_'s mouthpieces, but they may let something slip if we play it close."

Nodding in understanding, John asked, "How far can we go, Case? You willing to make these mokes a deal to get Phelps… maybe, Mikhaylov?"

"See what you can get out of them first… promise to talk to me about a deal. I don't want to see these bastards walking around free anytime soon," she replied. "But… if we can get them to roll on them their bosses… maybe give us names for the shooters in AC, I'll deal."

--

"Mikhail Ivanov Yegorov… our friend here has quite an impressive record," John read, pretending to talk to Fin. "Assault, assault with intent to kill… He's been upstate twice for that one, so I guess he liked it. Extortion… criminal domestic violence on his pregnant girlfriend… funny he should want a kid so badly he'd kidnap one after he knocked her around until she lost one that was his… or maybe that was the problem. He couldn't keep her satisfied at home and she was trying to pass off another guy's kid as his."

"Sounds like it to me," Fin taunted. "Looking at that rap sheet just screams someone compensating for something. What about it Mikey… you actually like being inside? Maybe he just can't wait to go back upstate… maybe he likes being a mattress for his prison buddies, but can't admit it. Only been out for a few months, so that must be it. You miss bottoming for the cellblock, Mikey?"

With an inarticulate shout of pure rage, Yegorov dove across the table trying to wrap his hands around Fin's throat. Having anticipated his response, two brawny officers flanking the door grabbed his arms and roughly shoved him back into his chair, snapping handcuffs into place to prevent a second attempt. "You bastard… if I get my hands…"

"Sorry, Mikey boy… I don't go in for that, so we'll have to send you back to your prison buddies so you can get your hands on them," Fin sneered, rising to walk around the table so he could lean down and whisper in his ear, "What's the matter… afraid your boss won't like hearing about your little secret? Bet he only wants real men doing his dirty work."

John stood placidly on the other side of the table watching as Fin baited their perp into losing control, playing not quite as bad cop to his bad cop. Once Fin had the man foaming at the mouth, John dropped the file he was holding on the table and took the seat across from Yegorov. He had learned the art of interrogation from several masters, Al Giardello and Frank Pembleton in particular. He had long ago discovered that it usually came down to timing… start the play too soon and they saw through your bluff, wait too long and they were too blind with anger to deal.

"You and your brother are a pair of grade-A fuckups, do you know that, Mikey?" John asked, casually flipping through the file before stopping at the DNA report. "What kind of idiot eats an apple and leaves the core for us to find? Your brother's DNA was all over that core… and then we find the baby in your mother's house. You're both going down hard on this one and we won't even have to break a sweat to seal the deal. The DA will ask for life without parole with your records and the jury will be all too happy to oblige. Sure hope my partner is right about your… tastes, Mikey, 'cos that's the only action you'll be getting for the rest of your miserable life."

"Fuck you!" Yergorov growled.

Tilting his head to gaze at his prey over the top of his glasses, John mocked, "Sorry, I don't go in for that either. Don't worry. I'm sure the DA will let you confess so you can go directly to jail… do not pass go… do not collect 200."

Letting the moment stretch taunt, he casually added, "The only question still out there is what happens to your mother, Mikey. Nice lady… lives 66 years without so much as a parking ticket. It's going to be tough on her to make that adjustment… Bedford Hills isn't exactly my idea of a nice retirement home, but she's looking at hard time for helping you and your numb-nuts brother kidnap that kid. At her age, she's in for life even if she only gets ten or fifteen years."

Stunned ice-blue eyes stared dumbly at him for a moment before he shouted, "You bastards… leave her alone! She's got nothing to do with this!"

Making a tutting sound, John pointed out, "That's not how the DA is going to see it, Mikey. You and your brother were at her house. She was taking care of little Davy when we got there. That adds up to aiding and abetting. Yeah, she's looking at hard time."

"She's got nothing to do with it!" Yergorov insisted, clearly more concerned with his mother's fate than his own. "Leave her alone!"

"Give me a reason to," John began, setting the bait in the middle of the trap before stepping back to give his prey plenty of room to spring the jaws shut around himself. "You tell me what happened… and, if you convince me she's not involved, I'll put in a good word for her with the DA. You tell me who put you up to snatching little Davy and I might even put in a good word for you and your scumbag brother."

His lawyer spoke for the first time, the rapid flow of his Russian almost too fast for John to follow. An infuriated Yergorov began to shout back. John saw a feral grin split Fin's face as he picked out the name 'Doc' amid the unfamiliar language. John understood more than enough to know Yergorov would give them both Phelps and the Mob boss, Mikhaylov to save his mother. While the lawyer had been careful not to name names, Yergorov hadn't been so circumspect.

Leaning back in his chair, John patiently waited. His prey had taken the bait… a very real threat that the man's mother would be charged along with her sons. All they had to do was sit back and watch him seal is fate. His head was in the jaws of the trap and… SNAP!!

Like Pembleton always said… it always comes down to timing.

--

"Yergorov needs to be placed in solitary for his protection… same for his brother and mother," Cragen instructed, shifting the cradle of his phone a little closer to his ear. The warden at Rikers was on the other end of the call. "They can't have any contact with the general population or they're dead men."

After completing the arrangements for the protection of their prisoners, Don ended his call and turned to face the two women listening to his side of the conversation in the privacy of his office. "Well Chris, you have your connection to 'Doc'. Yergorov's ID is more than enough to start the dominos falling."

Grinning broadly, Capt. Larsson agreed. "If we can keep him alive long enough to get his testimony before a grand jury, we can take down the entire Mikhaylov operation. Casey, the ADA working with us needs to coordinate this with you. I'm assuming McCoy will want to have a say as well since he's been following your case so closely."

"No doubt he and Branch will be hovering over our shoulders nudging us along," the ADA agreed, returning the grin. "Who are you working with from our office?"

"Nick Sarandon. Do you want me to give him a call?"

Neither of her companions missed the dull flush that spread over the strawberry blonde's pretty features. "I know him. I'll give him a call tomorrow and we'll work out a strategy for moving forward. Have Phelps arrested in the morning, Don. We have enough to support the charges and I'd prefer not to make it easy for him to use his money to hinder our investigation any further."

"I'll take care of that with pleasures." Trading a pleased look with his counterpart, Cragen offered, "Can I take you two ladies to dinner? Its almost 8 and I haven't had anything to eat since this morning."

"Can I have a rain-check?" Casey asked, rising to leave. "I need to run by my office and grab a few files for the Peters hearing tomorrow. I have that at 10 and I haven't had a chance to reread the file in prep. This case has sucked up most of my time since it fell into our laps."

"Sure… I feel your pain," Don commiserated. "Chris?"

Holding his gaze, hoping he might finally be ready to acknowledge the mutual attraction that had been simmering between them for… longer than she wanted to admit, she nodded. "I'd kill for a great burger. Does that place a few blocks over still serve the ones you need a forklift to get off the plate?"

Pleased by the prospect of having her all to himself, Don rose quickly to usher her toward the exit. He didn't want the run the risk of one of his detectives coming back and tagging along. "Clem's… yeah they do. They also have the best fries in the city."

Watching as the pair disappeared into the elevator, Casey spoke to the detectives hovering in the doorway of one of the interrogation rooms. "I think you're right, Liv. I've never seen Don look so… cute! He's got it bad!"

"From the looks she's been giving him all day," Liv added, "I'd say he's not the only one!"

Chuckling, the detectives of the Special Victims Unit herded their ADA out the door. A beer and a burger sounded good, but they would have to settle for the second best burger joint. They had no intention of getting in the way of their captain's almost date. They liked and respected him too much… and they all knew he had been alone too long. If he was interested in Chris Larsson, then they wanted him to have the chance to see where the attraction might lead.

--

Something was wrong. John was certain he had reset all of the deadbolt locks before leaving after his last visit to check on Sam's cat, Megan. Only the main lock on her door was now set.

After grabbing a quick burger with his squad, John had gone to the hospital to see how Sam was faring. Despite his best intensions of going home early, it had been a little after 10:30 before he had been shooed out of the room by the night nurse Susie Webber with orders to get a good night's sleep. Finding Sam resting comfortably, obviously improved since the morning, had been a relief and he had yawned broadly before bidding the two women good night.

Sam had asked him about Megan soon after he had arrived, worried that her little friend was alone so much. Knowing this, he had offered to take the cat to his place so that Megan would have more company than his infrequent visits until Sam was home from the hospital. Securing her grateful permission, he had made a stop by her place to pickup the cat and her supplies for the trek to Hudson Heights and a much anticipated good night's sleep.

It was that offer had found him to her door at just before 11:00 p.m. The signs that someone else had been inside her place kicked his sluggish reflexes into high gear. Pulling his gun from its holster, he slowly eased open the door and looked inside. The living room looked like a tornado had struck… books and papers were strewn across the floor… furniture had been overturned… her music collection had been smashed along with the front of her tv.

Moving slowly, he cautiously advanced into the room. Sam had left the curtains in the living room open that Tuesday morning prior to leaving for work. He had not thought to close them on the two occasions he had been by the apartment. Now, he was glad of that omission as the glow from the street cast just enough light into the small room for him to see. A quick scan of the room confirmed it was empty.

Slipping quietly through the door, he surveyed the damage the invader had wrought to the few possessions Sam had managed to bring with her when she fled DC. The doors to a small china hutch hung by damaged hinges, the glitter of broken crystal and china reflecting in the subdued light. A large painting over the sofa… one that looked to be an original work, had been slashed in several places; it hung in tatters from its frame. The few pieces of bric-a-brac she had displayed on the book shelves and in the cabinet had been smashed into the empty hearth, the utter destruction of her cherished mementos warning him that this attack had been personal.

Moving slowly across the room, he looked for signs of Megan. The loss of her possessions would be upsetting. If her beloved pet had been killed with the same senseless brutality, she would be devastated.

Glancing briefly into the kitchen, he didn't see any sign someone lingered in the shadows. The door to her bedroom stood open, the darkness of the room unbroken as the curtains in the small room were tightly closed. Gripping his gun a little tighter, he paused at the threshold, listening for sounds that someone was hiding inside.

A sudden movement behind him caused him to turn his head in the direction of the kitchen. A sharp blow to the side of his skull came before he had time to raise his weapon. The force of the blow drove him to his knees, where he pitched forward onto a pile of books and broken cd's.

Struggling to remain conscious, John watched as a pair of black leather shoes paused near his head. Their owner studied him for a moment before turning and disappearing out the door. The last thing John remembered before the darkness swamped his senses was the sound of the door clicking shut behind his attacker.

--

7/20/2008


	21. Chapter 21

I hope you enjoy the next chapter. Feedback would be much appreciated! S

Title: Blind, Chapter 21

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 21

A cold, wet nose prodded his left cheek, followed by a low "Muroww". A second nudge, this one a little more forceful, accompanied a faint mewing. When that failed to gain his attention, a small clawless paw began to gently pat his face. On some dazed level, John was amused by the cat's persistence.

After several minutes of concerted effort on the cat's part, John grumbled and cracked one eye open. A pair of large blue eyes met his bleary gaze with a determined stare. It took him a few seconds to process whose eyes they were… and why he was waking up on the floor with a cat next to his head.

"Megan?"

A rumbling purr greeted his question as the cat sat back to watch him struggle to focus his thoughts. Lifting a hand to touch the side of his head… the throbbing pain was making him dizzy and nauseous, John groaned as his fingers found a large lump several inches to the right of his temple. A trickle of blood oozed from a cut at the heart of the wound.

Rolling to his side, John fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief to stem the flow while he tried to remember how he had come to be on the floor of… Sam's apartment, given the presence of her cat. The world began to spin as he moved and he froze in place hoping to steady his senses.

John took several deep breaths. Shoes… black leather shoes. He had come to Sam's apartment to get Megan to take to his place so he could care for the cat without the need to make a stop by Sam's apartment several times a week. Someone had broken into her place and trashed the living room… apparently the same someone that had knocked him out.

Slowly shifting to his side, John struggled to clear his head sufficiently so that he could decide what to do. A worried, yet practical voice of reason… one that reminded him of his mother, urged him to call 911 and get help. A second voice… this one sounding suspiciously like his former partner in Baltimore, Stanley Bollander, told him he was an idiot for getting blindsided… to be a man, "**D**e**-TEC-**tive. Munch". The third… he paused for a few seconds trying to decide who that voice sounded like… /Fin? No… Liv? Maybe… with a heavy dose of Cragen/ he decided. That voice insisted he call one of his partners. The scene needed to be protected and evidence collected.

Fumbling for his cell phone, John struggled to focus his eyes enough to find a number on his speed-dial. Seeing one that looked right, he entered the number and listened as it rang. Fin's irritated voice answered, "You damned well better have a good reason to call…"

"Fin… I'm at Sam's. I…" before he passed out a second time.

--

The bright light being directed into his right eye hurt and he groaned. Lifting his hand to try and shield himself from the harsh glare, John heard a voice announce, "He's awake, detectives. Det. Munch... we're going to transport you to the hospital. Relax and let us do our job."

Forcing his eyes open, John vaguely recognized the paramedic leaning over him from more than a few crime scenes he had investigated since joining SVU. "Transport? No, I need to…"

"You need to remain as still as possible until we get you to the hospital. You have a head injury and were unconscious when we arrived. We need to assess how badly you've been injured," the voice insisted, breaking into his objections before he could complete his thought. "Let us do our job… OK?"

"No… I have to…"

"Keep your scrawny ass where it is and let them get you to the hospital," Fin interjected, shifting into his limited line of sight. "You were out cold when Liv and I got here, so don't try to jerk us around that you're not hurt."

"What time is it?"

"Just after 3," Fin supplied. "Why did you come by here so late?"

"Arrived… just before 11. Visited Sam. Told her I'd take Megan to my place… until she comes home." Struggling to focus on his partner, John stated the obvious. "Someone had broken in… hit me…"

"We see that, John," Liv's voice soothed as she crouched at his side. "CSU is processing the scene, so relax. We have it in hand. You need to go to the hospital and we'll take it from here. Were you unconscious before you called Fin?"

"Guess so," John replied, too dazed to be making much sense. "Megan… promised Sam I'd take her home with me…"

"I'll take her to your place," she promised. "I'll take good care of her until you get home, but you need to let a doctor check you out. Megan will be fine. We'll get your statement in the morning. Now, shut up and let them do their job."

Putting as much force as he could given the headache pounding in his temples, John glared at the couple watching the paramedics ready him for transport to the hospital. "Someone needs to check on Sam. That bastard…"

"I called ICU and alerted the uniforms guarding her," Fin interjected. "Now, do like Liv said and shut up. We'll take care of the rest. Once we're done here, we'll run by the hospital and make sure she's OK… and make sure you're behaving. Satisfied?"

Frowning, John closed his eyes and stopped arguing… for the moment.

--

John was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed when Cragen and Fin arrived at his room the next morning. Noting that he was struggling to get his arm into the right opening of his shirt, Fin strode forward and grabbed the garment. "What the hell you doing? You're supposed to be in bed until the doctor says otherwise."

"I'm fine," John bit out, making a feeble swipe at reclaiming the shirt. "Now, give me my goddamned clothes so I can get out of here. I have more important things to be doing than lying around in bed waiting on a doctor to show up."

"Det. Munch, you know department policy," Cragen began, expecting the veteran policeman to respond to a direct order without argument. "Until the doctor says you're cleared for duty, you're staying put. Are we clear?"

Glaring at the two men, John forced himself to his feet, stuffing his feet into his shoes in the process. "I don't give a damn whether you consider me on duty or not. I'm not lying around when I should be out finding the bastard that hit me. Sam is…"

"Sam is safe… you're not the only cop watching her," Fin inserted, laying a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder. "Liv and I checked on her after you were transported. She was sleeping peacefully… her guards were alert and taking the threat seriously. You're no good to her, man, if you're the walking wounded, so stay put until the doctor…"

"Screw the doctor and screw you!" John growled. "It was her bastard of an ex-husband that trashed her place. He knows she's Samantha Dunbar which means he knows where she is. He took her from one hospital once before. He could…"

"Did you get a look at the man that hit you, John?" Cragen demanded, trying to get him to focus and be rational. "If you did, we'll get an arrest warrant for him this morning. He's no threat to Sam if he's at Rikers."

"He'd make bail before we could get out the door," John scoffed, trying to shove Fin's hand away. The fact that he couldn't coordinate his movements enough to accomplish something that simple confirmed his condition to the men watching. He needed to be in bed and under a doctor's care. "I have to protect her… I promised I wouldn't let that son-of-a-bitch come near her ever again. Now get the hell out of my way!"

"You haven't answered my question… did you see the man that hit you?" Cragen repeated, his no nonsense tone penetrating the anger and worry driving John to rush to Sam's side… do something, anything to protect her.

Slumping back onto the bed, John admitted, "No… bastard came up behind me. I was heading into the bedroom… he must have been hiding in the kitchen. I heard him too late… turned, but… it was Welch. I know it."

"How do you know that, John?" Fin reasoned. "You've got no proof he knows where she ran when she left DC, but we **do** know Phelps knows her name… has already tried to get to her. More likely he sent someone to her place hoping to find something to use against her."

"You saw the place… too personal… too much anger to be someone Phelps sent," John countered, offering the first logical observation he had made since they arrived. "If they wanted information to use against her, why trash the place and tip anyone off they had been there? No, it was Welch. He wanted to destroy her sanctuary… remind her he can find her… that she isn't safe no matter how far she runs. He was in a rage that she dared to leave him. I've seen the pattern too many times not to recognize it now."

"John… you're not exactly seeing anything about Sam too clearly," Fin cautiously observed, choosing his words with care in hopes of preventing his friend from taking his comments as an implied criticism of his professionalism. "You're getting too close… you need to keep your feelings out of our work…"

"That's rich coming from someone that's sleeping with one of our partners…"

"That's enough!" Cragen interjected, needing to cut off John's comment before he was forced to 'deal' with the relationship between Fin and Olivia. While he personally had no problem with their seeing each other, he had to pretend to ignore it so he didn't have to split up his squad. "Keep it up and I'll be forced to take you off of this case. Until the doctor clears you for duty, consider yourself on medical leave. I don't want to see you anywhere near the squad or her hospital room until then. Are we clear?"

In the coldest voice either man could remember ever hearing John Munch use, he growled, "You may be able to keep me out of the squadroom, but you've got no say in what I do on my own time. If I want to see Sam, I'll see her and you can go fuck yourself if you think otherwise."

"You're off the case effective immediately," Cragen responded, a dull flush of anger darkening his features. "As for seeing Ms. Dunbar, your name will no longer be on the list of authorized…"

"Sam has control of that, so… I repeat, fuck off," John bit out, shoving past the two men. Grabbing his jacket off of the chair by the bed, he struggled to pull it on over his undershirt. "I'll do what I have to do, so stay out of my way."

Watching as John disappeared out the door… his movements unsteady and labored, Fin glanced over at his commander. "You mean it about taking him off the case?"

"Yeah I do," Cragen responded, furious with the insubordination of one of his senior detectives. "And I also meant it about taking him off the list…"

"That's not right, Cap," Fin interjected. "John's the only one she has to visit her. I spoke to her nurse when Liv and I checked on her and she says his visits are all she has that's keeping her spirits up. Sam's facing being blind and she's depending on John for support."

"It's getting out of hand…"

"It's out… all the way out, Cap," Fin inserted. "I saw it happening, but… I hadn't realized how deep he was in until now. John's in love with that woman and nothing you do will change that. If it falls apart, it's already too late to change anything. She needs him and he won't leave her to face things alone. Accept that or John will walk for good. You want that?"

Sighing, Cragen rubbed his neck in frustration. "Hell no, it's not what I want! But, I won't tolerate any officer in my command defying my orders. I…"

"You've taken worse from Elliot… a lot worse and we both know it, usually for less reason on his part. I think John has earned a little slack this time," Fin insisted, ignoring Cragen's angry glare. "You know he's not thinking clearly from that concussion… he's tired and worried about someone he's in love with. He's scared of seeing her hurt again… losing her. And… it's not about you anyway, Cap… it's about what I said. He was right… I'm in had no position to question his judgment. I…"

Holding up his hand, Cragen grudgingly nodded in agreement. "Don't say any more. The less I know officially the better. All I ask is keep it out of the office and under the radar… and that you make each other happy. God knows we all need a little of that."

"Yeah… and so does John."

"Yeah, I know. Let's find him and talk some sense into that thick head of his."

--

The first part proved easier than they had expected. They found John leaning weakly against the wall near the elevators, too dizzy to push the call button. Both men could see he was pale and shaky, only staying upright by sheer force of will. Sighing, they flanked him and turned him around to walk him back into his room.

Once they had him sitting on the edge of his bed, Cragen ordered, "You are not to leave this room again until the doctor clears you. I expect to you take the rest of the day off **if** he releases you and rest. When the doctor says you're fit for duty, you can return to work. Disobey a direct order from me again and I'll do more than take you off a case. We clear?"

John lifted his head and fixed Cragen with a bleary stare. After a moment, he nodded.

"I'll let you stay on the case provided you show me you're capable of keeping a clear head, John," his commander added. "Samantha Dunbar's life depends on our doing our job right the first time. We owe it to all the victims not to screw this up. Compromise the case or their safety and you're on the bench… maybe permanently, understood?"

A second grudging nod.

"Have you had a chance to talk to her about her brother?" Cragen asked. "I know you planned to on Saturday… but given how the weekend went… Do I need to go by and talk to her? McCoy is going to need to give his friend an answer or they are going to know we're keeping something from him. That might cause him to do something rash if he's genuinely worried."

"I'll do it," John insisted. "After the doctor releases me…"

"Already ignoring my orders, detective?" he demanded, a hint of a smile taking the edge off of the reprimand. "I'll handle it… and I'll do my best not to upset her. I do have some experience in dealing with the victims of violent crime, remember?"

"But, she knows me, Cap," the injured man argued, only to fall silent at the look he was getting.

"Think about it this way… do you want to upset her by showing up dazed and clearly not thinking straight? Let me handle it. You can go by once they discharge you and clean up any damage I unwittingly do," Cragen suggested. "You can play knight in… hell, even with bandages over her eyes, I doubt she thinks you wearing shining armor!"

"And John…" Cragen added, seeing the slight smirk his teasing had produced. "Be careful. None of us wants to see you hurt."

A snort of weary amusement greeted the last. "You too, Cap. How was your dinner last night… since we're discussing potential conflicts of interest to doing our jobs with a clear head?"

Rolling his eyes, Cragen turned to leave. "Det. Tutuola, keep an eye on him until the doctor gets here… then drag his ass home."

--

The silence in the room stretched for several minutes before John broke the tension. "I'm sorry, man. I had no right…"

"Yeah, maybe… but you were right. I had no business criticizing you when I'm involved with one of our own," Fin offered. "I just don't want to see you get too far ahead of her, bro. She's hurt and needy. If this goes somewhere, great, but… you need to give her time or you're both are going to get hurt."

Sighing, John shifted to recline against the raised mattress. "Yeah, I know… but… I can't explain it, Fin… I just know. Sam's… I just know."

Fin held his friend's gaze for several seconds before he nodded. "I get it. Felt the same the day I first saw Liv."

A devilish grin brightened John's pale face. "I forgot to ask with all that has been happening… do I need to find a box of confetti?"

"None of your damned business…"

--

8/2/08


	22. Chapter 22

Title: Blind, Chapter 22

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

A/N -- Thanks so much for the feedback! I really appreciate the support!

Blind, Chapter 22

Pausing at the door of Samantha Dunbar's ICU room, Don Cragen studied the woman on the bed. Noting the headphones covering her ears, he correctly assumed she had not heard his arrival. Tapping the door frame, he announced, "Ms. Dunbar… I'm Capt. Don Cragen, SVU. Can I speak with you for a few minutes?"

Startled by the sudden arrival of an unknown voice, Sam gave a small squeak of fright. Pulling off the headphones, she answered, "I'm sorry… I didn't catch your name."

Moving slowly into the room, he offered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Don Cragen, Ms. Dunbar."

"John's boss?"

Given his most recent encounter with the officer in question, Don chuckled. "Well, that generally depends on whether or not John agrees with what I'm saying. If he does, yeah I'm his CO. If not…"

A soft smile lifted her lips at the reference to the man that had become an important part of her life in the last week. Rather than comment, she asked, "If you want to talk about the other night, Capt… I gave John a statement and… I really don't remember anything more than what I told him."

Sensing her unease with someone she didn't know… her vulnerability at dealing with a stranger she couldn't see, he clarified, "Actually, I need to talk with you about another matter. John wanted to do it, but I thought it best that I handled this."

He saw her body tense, as if expecting a blow. "What… is John OK?"

"Why would you ask that?"

--

"Other than hers, we found only three sets of prints in her apartment. One's the building super," CSU Tech Burt Trevor announced as Olivia and Elliot entered his lab. "Doesn't look like she has many guests."

"From what we know about her personal life, no surprise there," Elliot offered. "Were you able to match the other two sets to any knowns?"

Nodding, Trevor turned to grab a file off of his desk. "Only one set was found throughout the apartment… on the door and on most of the broken items scattered across the floor. I also lifted the same prints off of the bookend used in the attack on Munch. How's he doing, by the way?"

"Blow to the head… concussion," Liv replied. "ER docs admitted him for observation. We'll keep you posted, but he should be ok in a few days."

Nodding, he resumed his report. "Found a great ten-pointer on the bookend… got a match. Name's… Richard Welch. He lives in Arlington, Virginia."

"Munch was right," Olivia observed, trading a look with Elliot. "It was her ex. We need to find this bastard and find him fast. He tore her place apart in a rage. He's a danger to her and anyone else that gets in his way as long as he's walking around free."

--

"John hasn't been by yet this morning… when he left last night, he said he would visit before going to work," Sam responded, "And… I guess I just assumed he would insist on coming with you if you have something to tell me. Is he OK?"

Caught off guard by the genuine concern in her voice, Don quickly reassured, "John will be fine… but he was injured earlier this morning. I ordered him to take the day off before returning to duty. He made it clear to me he would be by to see you once he was released."

Her good hand fisted the fabric of her blanket in a convulsive grip. "Released?? What… what happened? Is he really alright?"

Regretting the need to upset her further, Don hedged, "He was injured while investigating a crime scene. The doctors kept him overnight for observation, but he'll be fine if he does as he's told and takes it easy for a few days. He was adamant that he's coming to see you before he goes home, so you can ask him yourself when he gets here."

"You're sure?" she persisted.

Strangely relieved by her obvious concern for his colleague and friend, Don repeated, "Yeah, but you don't have to take my word for it. Like I said, you can ask him yourself when he gets here."

After a pause, she asked, "Then… what do you need to tell me?"

Watching her reactions closely, Cragen began, "I was contacted by Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy on behalf of a friend of his… your brother's commanding officer. We recalled the notice of your injury, but it was too late to prevent his being notified. Your brother's worried about you."

A soft, "Oh, God," slipped from her lips. "What…?"

"According to **Brig. Gen**. Haney, your brother knows you're hiding from your ex-husband," Cragen continued, hoping to relieve her anxiety by stressing the apparent support she might receive from her brother. "They choose to go through McCoy rather than make a direct inquiry hoping to call as little attention to you as possible."

Sam lay completely still for several seconds as she processed this news. "Does he… he always supported Richard… my ex-husband. He never believed…"

"His CO told McCoy his tour of duty in Iraq has changed your brother… made him reconsider his priorities," Don offered, when she fell silent. "Haney feels he's genuinely worried about you… realizes he failed you in the past. He doesn't want to make that same mistake again, so he's hoping a discrete inquiry will avoid your ex's notice."

"I… what do I need to do?" she whispered, clearly agitated and unsure of her situation.

--

"It was pretty sweet," Elliot concluded, a pleased smirk on his handsome face. "I thought Phelps was going to bust a vessel when we put the cuffs on him. There were more than a few relieved expressions on the faces of the staff at his practice when we lead him out."

"Wish I could have been there to see it," Fin admitted, grinning broadly at their account of Phelps' arrest. "Bastard acts like he owns the world… no rules apply."

"He said as much," Olivia offered, walking over to John's bed to hand him a cup of his favorite morning tea. "When El told him to put his hands behind his back, he told him he didn't take orders from anyone."

Chuckling, Elliot added, "You proved him wrong when he tried to walk off. He squealed like a little girl when Liv pinned him to the top of his desk and twisted his arm behind him."

"Hey!"

"Sorry… you're right. No self respecting little girl would have made a noise like that!" Elliot laughed.

"What did you find at Sam's apartment?" John demanded, relieved by the news that Phelps was in custody. The intensity of his headache was starting to fade and he was starting to think more clearly as the caffeine from the tea began to filter through his system. "Any physical evidence… fingerprints? Anyone see Welch hanging around?"

"Yeah, CSU lifted a number of his prints from around the apartment, including one on the bookend he used to clobber you," Elliot supplied.

"I knew it was him," John proclaimed, sending Fin an 'I told you so' look.

"El and I canvassed her building," Liv reported, as she and her partner made themselves comfortable in the remaining guest chairs in John's hospital room. "We found a tenant three doors down that remembered seeing a man fitting Welch's description getting off the elevator. That was at around 10:20 last night… tenant was in the hallway taking out his trash and saw Welch walking in the direction of her unit."

"Why didn't anyone report the break-in?" Fin responded, keeping an eye on John as he fidgeted in the bed. The doctor assigned to his case was running late and the wait wasn't doing anything to help his partner's frustration at his temporary confinement. "With all the damage he did busting the place up, should have alerted someone something was wrong."

"The walls in her building are thick and well insulated… every tenant we spoke to said they rarely hear anything from the other units," Elliot offered. "The neighbor in the unit next to hers was out of town and hers is the last one on the floor. Couple below her is elderly. Wife went to bed early and the husband is deaf as a post. Family on the next floor has a teenager who likes to play his music loud. Add it all up, no one heard a thing."

"Do you have enough to get Casey to issue an arrest warrant to bring him in?" John demanded. "I want that bastard locked up before he hurts anyone else. Given the amount of damage he did to Sam's place, he's out of control."

"Hopefully… we plan to ask," Elliot agreed. "Given his history of domestic abuse and the fingerprint evidence, Casey should give us the go-ahead. At the very least, it should be enough to compel him to take part in a line-up. Our witness was confident he could ID the man he saw in the hall."

"I need to ask Sam if she had any jewelry in the box on her dresser," Liv inserted. "There wasn't anything in it, not even costume pieces. Be great if we could find him with something he stole from her apartment… proof he was there and the additional charge of burglary on top of breaking and entering, vandalism and malicious destruction of property… not to mention assaulting a police officer…"

"Arresting him won't matter unless he gets remanded," John complained, slumping against the headboard as his energy waned. "With his money, bail isn't an obstacle. He'll be back on the street before Casey gets back to her office."

Before one of the others could comment, a doctor appeared in the door of John's room. Scanning the room and finding it far too crowded for his purposes, he ordered, "I need to examine Det. Munch, so…."

--

"McCoy needs to call Haney back with an answer," Cragen replied. "Jack had no idea you had changed your name when he spoke to his friend… told him he'd look into it and call him back in a few days. It's been a few days, so I need to find out what you want us to tell him."

"Why did you wait so long to tell me… if you've known for that long?"

Sighing, he admitted, "You've had a rough few days, Ms. Dunbar. Frankly, we didn't want to upset you until you were stronger. Ideally, I would have waited for another few days, but… I need to give McCoy an answer."

"Matt and I… we haven't spoken in over three years," she murmured. "I miss him. He's the only family I have left."

"Do you want us to confirm your identity to him, Samantha? It's your call."

"Richard…"

"Major Byrne convinced his CO he's sincere in his desire to protect you… that he regrets his lack of support over the years," Cragen repeated. "As for your ex-husband, it's already possible he knows about you though other sources. We sent the message the morning after the attack and it might have been seen by any number of people. From what John has uncovered about your ex, he seems the type to have someone in his pocket, keeping an eye on your brother in hopes he might lead him to you. You need to keep that in mind while you decide what to do."

The hand that had been compulsively kneading the blanket froze, a handful of the fabric gripped between her fingers. She seemed to be trying to make sense of something… something she found deeply troubling. "John… where was he when he was injured? He left here late last night… was going by my place for my cat, then straight home. He's really OK?"

Stunned that she had so quickly connected the pieces of the puzzle… and gotten them right on her first guess, he repeated, "John will be fine with a little rest."

"You didn't correct me… so my place was the crime scene," she observed, her already pale skin blanching pure white. "Megan… my cat… is she?"

"She's fine… another of my detectives took her to John's place last night and got her settled. He'll look after her for you," Cragen reassured. "How did you figure this out so quickly? I had planned to tell you, but your doctor advised me to wait for a day or two until you were stronger."

"John said he was going straight home after he got Megan," she repeated in a soft, reedy voice. "I could have gotten him killed…."

"It wasn't your fault, Samantha," Don insisted. "John should have waited for backup before going inside your apartment once he saw someone had tampered with the locks. Like I said, he'll be alright on a day or so, so no reason for you to feel guilty."

"But…"

"No buts," he insisted. "You had no reason to think he would be in any danger going by your place, so you have no reason to feel guilty. He was doing his job… he's lucky he has a hard head. It takes a lot more than that to slow him down. Fin Tutuola and I almost had to tie him to the bed to make him wait for the doctor… he was on his way here to check on you."

Another small smile lifted her lips at his last comment… before the reality of the moment swamped her once again. "Was it... was it Richard?"

"We are still investigating what happened," Cragen hedged. "John didn't get a good look at the man he surprised inside your place. He could only tell us it was a lone male."

"It was Richard."

"Why do you say that? Robbery could have been the motive… the incident may have nothing to do with your ex or your case," he suggested, instantly regretting the last part of his comment. They hadn't told her about the threat from Phelps. Her doctor had been adamant about not adding to her stress with news of just how vulnerable she was.

Lifting her head in his direction, Sam demanded, "What does my case…? You think someone broke into my place over what happened in the park last week?"

"Like I said, we have the incident under investigation, so we're merely following all…"

"John told me there were officers guarding me and Lucy," she inserted, "…something about a doctor who was related to one of the little bastards in the park. Is that…"

"I don't have answers to your questions, Samantha," Don interjected. "We're looking at all possibilities for now. We'll keep you updated when we know more… OK?"

--

"I'm taking you to your place, end of discussion," Fin bit out. "You got a bad concussion and the doctor ordered you to stay off your feet for the next few days…"

"I'm going to see Sam with or without your help," John insisted, ignoring the looks his partners were passing between them. "After that, I'll go home. I need to make sure Megan's OK... hasn't trashed my place. I promised…"

"Damn, you're whipped and you haven't even gotten to first base!" Elliot teased.

Snorting with amusement, Fin nodded. "He ever gets anywhere other than in his dreams, he'll be worthless. You start getting some on a regular basis, it'll be time to retire and put you out to pasture once and for all."

"Careful there, buddy," Elliot mock shuddered. "I though you were about to say 'put him out to stud'. That's a mental image I just don't need!!"

Struggling to suppress a grin, Liv ordered., "OK, that's enough. Leave John alone. Besides, I think its sweet he's so smitten."

"Smitten!! Sweet??" John sputtered, appreciating the effort his friends were making to joke him into a better mood. "I am many things but I am neither sweet nor smitten! That's more you and my partner!"

"Humm… you look both to me, but I'll reserve judgment for now," she retorted, smothering another grin at the smug look on her lover's face.

Looking over at the other two, she offered, "You guys go ahead. I'll take lover boy up to see Sam, then get him home. He needs to work on his social skills with Megan so he doesn't blow it with Sam."

"There's nothing going on between me and Sam!" John insisted, ignoring the snorts of amusement that comment produced. "I'm just…"

"Can it, Munchkin. You've got it bad, so save your denials for someone that's buying your line of crap," Elliot ordered. "Ready to go, Fin? Chasing bad guys sounds like child's play compared with trying to make John follow orders. Liv… call for backup if he gives you too much trouble."

--

"Was my apartment… was it vandalized?"

Sighing in frustration that she had managed to trip him up at every turn, he reluctantly admitted, "Yes."

"It was Richard, Capt.," she insisted, the tremor in her voice more pronounced. "He's done this before. He destroyed everything in my apartment in DC the last time… he…"

Reaching out to cover her hand, Don tried to sooth her as the memories of being raped and beaten by her ex-husband invaded her mind. "We're actively investigating that possibility, Sam. John thinks your ex is behind it too, so he'll make sure to follow-up on that possibility. Relax. Welch can't get to you here, so you're safe."

"I had another policeman tell me that… but Richard walked right into my room… carried me out while the entire staff watched," she whispered. "I lost my baby… almost died."

"I know," Cragen supplied. "John talked to the detective in DC that handled your case. We're taking the threat your ex represents very seriously, Sam. The officers outside your door are armed and have been ordered not to allow anyone into your room unless they have been properly cleared. He can't get in here… I promise you that."

"He'll have an alibi," she murmured.

"What?"

"For last night," she completed. "He always does… a dozen people that will swear he was with them baking cookies for the troops… knitting sweaters for orphans. He can buy his way out of anything… that's why I had to change my name… run."

"Sam… we'll protect you," Don promised. "If he's behind last night's incident, we'll get him. For now, relax and heal. Let us handle the rest."

Sighing, she slowly nodded. "Tell Matt I'm OK… not to worry about me… that I'm in good hands. Tell him… tell him I love him."

--

John hovered uncertainly in the doorway of Sam's room, trying to decide if she was awake or sleeping. Still unsure, he whispered, "Sam?"

"John? John, are you alright?" she exclaimed, instinctively reaching for him. "Capt. Cragen came by earlier. He said you were hurt."

Moving as quickly as he dared, John took the small, pale hand extended in his direction. "I'm fine… just the mother of all headaches. How are you?"

Feeling her tugging him closer, John took a seat on the edge of her bed. "He said you were in the hospital and…"

"Sam, I'm fine," John soothed, giving into the desire to bend and press a kiss to her forehead. "I just saw the doctor and he said my CAT scan showed no bleeding, swelling, or broken bones. I have to take it easy for the rest of the day…"

"He has to take it easy for the next several days," Liv interjected from the doorway, "but, the doctor said his head was like a rock. He'll be fine if he rests like he was told."

John felt the tremor that ran through her body as an unknown voice entered their conversation without her realizing they had an audience. "Who…?"

"It's Olivia Benson, Sam," she quickly supplied. Until that moment, the veteran officer had not fully appreciated just how vulnerable Samantha Dunbar was. She knew she was blind, but… Sam was blind, alone, and in danger from two dangerous men. John had become her lifeline… something that made her uneasy on her friend's behalf. "I didn't mean to startle you."

A sad smile proceeded, "I should be getting used to it by now, Olivia. The doctor really said John is OK?"

"I'm sitting right here, Sam. I can speak for myself," John groused. "I'm fine. You still haven't told me how you're feeling today?"

Smiling at his tone, Sam squeezed his hand in silent apology. "I was worried."

Touched, John gently ran his knuckles over the curve of her cheek in a soft caress. "Thank you for caring, but I'm fine, so enough about me. You still haven't told me how you're feeling. Do I need to find Tonya and ask her for an update?"

"Oh, please do!" Sam chuckled, the nervous tension that had gripped her since hearing he had been injured easing slightly. "It's not like we aren't the subject of gossip already. They're having way too much fun watching us."

A wicked grin colored his voice as he retorted, "I think they have a betting pool started. Maybe we can get Liv to place a bet for us."

Her voice was a disarming mix of shy uncertainty and hopeful flirtation. "What are the odds they're giving on us?"

Squeezing her hand again, he bent to whisper in her ear. "I'm feeling lucky, so I hope the odds are getting better each day."

An answering squeeze and a little nod was her only reply.

--

"Thanks, Jack. I'll tell Matt. He's been asking since Friday if I'd heard from you," Ron Haney offered. "What took you so long by the way? Not like you to let moss grow on anything."

Jack McCoy offered a partial answer, having anticipated the question. "SVU… the squad handling her case, has been involved in two separate child kidnappings since you called. Until they recovered those kids, I didn't want to distract them. This morning was the first chance I had to talk to them without worrying I was getting in the way."

"I understand," Haney conceded. "I take it they found both of the children unharmed?"

"Unharmed and in good health, thank God," Jack reported. "Tell Major Byrne his sister is in very good hands and is recovering. She asked Cragen to tell him she sends her love."

"Will do. That'll mean a lot to Matt," Haney offered. "I asked to see the pictures the DC police sent him… the ones taken in the hospital after the last time Welch beat her up. Shit… how any man could do that to a woman, much less someone he claimed to love… It made me sick to see what that bastard did to Eva. Keep her safe, Jack."

Hesitating for a moment, McCoy added, "We'll do our best, but… he may have already found her. Her place was trashed last night. We're looking into the possibility it was Welch… but it's still too soon to say one way or the other."

"Damn!" Haney muttered. "When do you think you'll know if it was him?"

"Day or so… assuming we can make a case against anyone," McCoy replied. "I don't have any details, only the basic facts. It might have been a simple b&e… nothing to do with Welch."

"Awfully big coincidence if it wasn't Welch," his friend observed.

"We agree, but we still have to proceed based on facts not gut feelings," McCoy cautioned. "And Ron… you may have another problem to consider. If it was Welch, you have someone in your outfit that tipped him off. I'm telling you this so you and Maj. Byrne can take appropriated precautions."

Frowning, Haney complained, "Great! We're in the middle of a war zone and I have to worry I may have a spy for Welch in our midst. Someone that sells out his fellow airman for money… puts the life of an abused woman on the line for personal gain, is a security risk I can't ignore. He… or she may decide to sell us all out to the enemy if the money is right."

"Like I said, you need to take appropriate precautions."

Sighing, Haney looked over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone. He was in a secure portion of the base, but he now had to worry he had a spy in his command. Welch was wired to the seats of power in DC and he had learned a long time ago it was never good to have that kind of attention directed his way.

"Can I call in a few days for an update?" he concluded. "I know Matt is going to want to know how the surgery on her eyes went."

"Sure, always good to hear from you. And, Ron… be careful over there. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Laura at our next high school reunion."

--

A shadow slipped out of the space between the wall and a stack of shipping crates as Haney walked back inside the 'O' Club. Stu Barber ran a nervous hand over the top of his balding scalp. /What the hell have I got myself into? Joe promised me no one was going to get hurt… that Welch only wanted to find his wife so they could talk… maybe patch things up. If I'd thought… I'd never have... Damn! What do I do to save my ass? Welch will be expecting a call…/

--

8/8/08


	23. Chapter 23

Title: Blind, Chapter 23

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Fin/Liv, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin.

Blind, Chapter 23

"So… let's recap what we know," Arthur Branch instructed, scanning the conference room to study the faces of his senior prosecutors involved in the spiraling investigation. "I'm correct in my understanding we have solid cases against the eight young men arrested at the scene of the attack on Lucy Hellman. Can we also conclusively prove that Martin Danvers wasn't part of the gang, but was another victim?"

"Yes, that's the only conclusion the facts support. As you said, all of the defendants were arrested at the scene. We have victim and witness statements that detail the attack," Casey Novak supplied. "Forensic evidence supports their accounts. We have limited blood evidence thanks to the rain and their fall into the creek, but the physical injuries suffered by all three victims are consistent with the facts of the case."

Flipping through her notes, she continued. "We've documented a wound on the hand of Eric Levine that supports Lucy's story that she bit one of her attackers when he covered her mouth… blood stains on her blouse have a splatter pattern consistent with someone pulling away quickly and splashing his blood in the process."

"Ben Phelps and both Levine brothers have scratches on their arms consistent with a struggle like the one described in the witness statements," she added. "DNA testing of blood stains on Lucy's clothes suggests a match, but the blood evidence was too degraded from the water for more."

Looking up, Casey offered, "The blood types match the perps. The Levin twins have AB-, which is quite rare… less than 1 of the population have it. Ben Phelps is O+… both Lucy and Sam Dunbar have A+. Most of the blood was the vic's… no surprise, but the other stains on her clothes are consistent with scratches and the bite wound transfers during a struggle with someone having that combination of blood types."

"Samantha Dunbar's clothes have a few spatters that match one of the Levine brothers… both brothers had wounds by that point so its likely the blood was from both of them," Casey reported. "There was skin and blood on the tree branch used in the attack… Ben Phelps', Tom Levine's, and Samantha Dunbar's. Bert Trevor is prepared to testify the blood evidence supports eyewitness statements that Eric and his brother were the ones that attacked Sam."

"Why is Ben Phelps' blood and skin on the branch?" McCoy asked. "And how did Tom Levine get wounded?"

"Because Sam hit Ben over the head with the branch to stop him from raping Lucy," Casey reported, the fierce gleam in her eyes betraying her respect for the other woman's actions. "She managed to hit Tom Levine squarely between the eyes before his twin knocked her down and began to hit her with the branch. Tom's nose was shattered from the blow and he must have been spraying blood when he joined his twin in attacking Sam. Fingerprint and blood spatters support the conclusion he was the one to stab her… after he had kicked her in the ribs and head. They were savage in their retaliation."

Nodding, McCoy pressed, "What about the others?"

"The lawyers representing Austin McKenzie, Charlie van Hutten, and Paul Morgenstern have all made overtures about a deal for their clients," she offered. "If they're willing to flip on their friends, do you have a problem with my making them a deal?"

"Separate them and see what they have to say," Branch began, "but, I seem to recall your telling me that McKenzie and van Hutten were the ones holding Martin Danvers down, preventing him from helping Lucy Hellman. They don't get a walk. The Morgenstern kid… have the police been able to pin down his actions during this sorry business?"

"It looks like he was having second thoughts," she admitted. "Several of the eye-witnesses say he was crying… moving away from the others like he wanted to run, but Doug Williams grabbed him and pinned him to a tree."

"Isn't he the one that was supposed to have a crush on Lucy?" McCoy observed.

"That's what we've been told," Casey replied.

"If his story supports the facts, he gets the deal," Branch instructed, "but he tells us everything he knows for our largesse."

Seeing her nod of understanding, the DA prompted, "Fill in the blanks on Martin Danvers."

"Forensic evidence proves he was where he said he was… confirmed by both Lucy and Sam, as well as, several witness statements. His broken tooth was recovered approximately 15' from where they restrained the two women. Steven Phelps's clothing has his blood on them, but none was found on the other defendants," Casey summarized. "Nothing SVU has uncovered disproves his claim he was there trying to prevent the attack. They found a witness that remembered seeing Sarah Liebman going into the Danvers's mansion around 6:15 the night of the attack, which fits with his claim she went to him and confessed at the last moment, giving him very little time to consider his options. He rushed out hoping to stop them before it was too late, but the gang turned on him to stop him from interfering."

"And, Steven Phelps is the one that tried to kill him?"

"That's the only logical conclusion given the blood evidence. Only Martin's and the Phelps' brothers prints were on the knife," Casey offered. "From what we've been able to piece together, it looks like Steven was the one that orchestrated the attack. His older brother has a serious substance abuse problem… supported by the tox-screen the doctors ran on him at the ER. Steven seems to have assumed the dominant role in their relationship."

"How could a 13-year old get boys three or four years older than him to follow his lead?" McCoy asked. "We'll need to be able to present a plausible explanation to the jury to overcome that issue."

"Dr. Huang is of the opinion that Steven is most likely a sociopath with the ability to manipulate others to do his will," she offered. "George has reviewed the information in Steven's student records, including the list of medications his doctors prescribed. It's doubtful he's taken any of them recently given his behavior. George says he would have been too lethargic and docile to be a threat to anyone if he had. Dr. Phelps had to know his son wasn't taking his meds, but he did nothing to control his son's behavior."

"What else?"

"He's studied teenage spree crimes… the teenage mob mentality," she continued. "There is always one that is the dominant personality. Steven is not the typical 13-year old. He's highly intelligent, evidenced by the fact he has been advanced two grades at an elite school like Winthrop. He's also unusually big for his age."

"Steven has become increasingly isolated as he moved ahead of his peers at school. Couple that with the fear he inspires in the children nearer his age… the reports of prior assaults, he has no friends his own age… or none we can find," Casey reported. "Steven has hovered on the edge of his brother's circle for years, watching and learning their weaknesses. Huang feels that gave him ability to manipulate them and tap into the anger the other boys felt toward Lucy over the chastity pledges… perhaps, used unrequited lust to turn them against her. Add in the drug and alcohol abuse issues…"

"He's prepared to testify to this theory?"

"Yes. I spoke with him several times last week and he feels the discovery of the other attacks demonstrate Steven's escalating pattern of violence," she supplied. "Huang feels that his parents' repeatedly excusing and covering for his behavior fostered a belief that he could do whatever he wanted without reprisal. George wants to interview him prior to the trial, but that's not likely to happen unless they bring his mental state into his defense. Unless we can flip one of them, we'll have to use medical records and logical deductions to make our case as to the boys' motivation for what they did."

"Let's all agree to something from here forward… these little bastards aren't boys," Branch asserted. "They forfeited the right to hide behind their age… including Steven. We prosecute them as adults… all of them."

Seeing the others nod in agreement, he asked, "What else?"

"The knife used to stab Martin Danvers has been traced to one purchased for Ben Phelps last year by his grandfather, Saul Rosenthal. It was custom-made in Pennsylvania… commissioned as a memento of a hunting trip he took Ben and Martin on to Canada last fall. Ben's name was inscribed on the blade… the company that made it has a record of the sale with pictures and specifications," Casey reported, adding, "Martin received a matching knife. As a precaution, I had CSU test the second knife to rule out any chance the defense would try to use it as a smokescreen. No traces of human blood were found on it."

"Good thinking," he praised. "What about the other knife… the one used against Samantha Dunbar?"

"Nothing particularly unique about it," she replied. "It was new, so SVU plans to follow-up and see if they can track its purchase to one of the suspects. That's on the list of items we need to tie down before trial."

"Jack… assign a couple of our investigators to work with Casey. You can have one of them find out where that knife was bought… and who bought it," Branch instructed. "SVU and OCTF have more than enough on their plates right now with the rest of the investigation. Use our investigators to tract down the loose ends to take some of the burden off of them.

Seeing her nod, he continued, "Tell me about the tape."

"It shows Steven's attack on little Rosa Alvarez. Cambiati's attorney delivered it to SVU Sunday morning. Judge Petrovsky lifted her order in the face of the Cambiatis' deaths. We viewed it…there's no doubt of Steven's guilt," Jack McCoy offered, his revulsion at what that tape had shown clear. "Based on the statements from Mikhail and Anton Yegorov, we can connect the hits on the Cambiatis to Andrew Phelps. That means the affidavit Cambiati included with the tape is admissible under Molino. Casey, have you re-filed the charges against Steven to include rape and aggravated assault for the Alvarez case?"

"I handled that this morning," she reported. "I'll have him arraigned this afternoon."

"Andrew Phelps was taken into custody first thing this morning by detectives from SVU, charged with the kidnapping of Davy Scott and the attempted murder of Samantha Dunbar," Nick Sarandon reported, joining the conversation for the first time. The tall, dark-haired attorney had been appointed to head up the DA's office prosecution of organized crime two years earlier. This was the first big break OCTF had gotten during his tenure. He was understandably eager to pursue this investigation in hopes it would lead to more.

"Yegorov's statement linked him to the 'Doc' mentioned in the wire taps, so we're moving quickly against Mikhaylov and his organization," he pledged, sending a smug smile toward his counterpart at SVU. "Casey and I are working together to make sure we cover the bases."

"We'll probably add obstruction charges… possibly bribery once SVU finishes their investigation into the Alvarez case. INS is investigating the discrepancies in their records, so the Feds may weigh in with charges of their own," Casey added, ignoring the way her pulse reacted to his smile. "Then there's matter of the records at the Winthrop Academy. If we can link him to that, the case goes Federal. The worm used to destroy their files fed back through their data security company's firewall, wiping out over two dozen customer accounts, crossing numerous state lines in the process. Add in the killings in AC… several investment schemes that defrauded thousands of small investors… It may be months before we know the full scope of what we've uncovered."

"Justice will want to take over," Branch interjected, "especially, if the money trail leads them to the Chechen terrorist groups. We have any feel for that likelihood?"

"I got a call from Claudia Williams first thing this morning," Jack reported. "Their informants and undercovers heard about the arrests we made yesterday… the rumor mill is apparently in overdrive, so she knows we have the Yegorov brothers in custody. She was fishing for more, but I told her it was premature for me to confirm anything about our investigation. She wasn't happy with that answer."

"Well… that explains the stack of messages I had waiting on me when I returned from lunch… calls from here to DC," the DA sighed. "If Mikhylov and his cronies are helping fund terrorists, I have no problem with the Feds adding those charges to the rest, but I'll be damned if I want to see them offer any of these bastards a walk to do it. I want our cases to be first priority."

"We may be in for a battle once they hear we have witnesses against Mikhaylov," McCoy predicted. "The prosecution of potential terrorists seems to trump anything else these days."

"Well, this one I'll fight as far as I have to," Branch promised. "The Russian Mob is a lot bigger threat to most of our citizens than a bunch of rebels in Chechnya. We've only begun to scratch the surface and we already have 4 murders, several attempted murders, the attempted rape of Lucy Hellman and the assault on her and Samantha Dunbar… kidnapping, bribery… not to mention Mikhaylov's criminal organization. We have the chance to clean house and I'm not about to roll over and let this opportunity pass us by."

Refocusing the conversation back to the cases at hand, he demanded, "Tell me about the Yegorov brothers."

"Petty thugs with rap sheets as long as your arm," Sarandon offered, sliding the file out from in front of Casey so that he could review the particulars. "Their statements give us the link we needed to ID Phelps as the man we knew previously knew only as Doc. Their statements are corroborated by several conversations we have on tape between Mikhaylov and 'Doc'. We've still got a lot of ground to cover with them. Last night, SVU concentrated on the immediate investigation into the kidnapping and murder plots tied to their cases. I have a long laundry list of other cases to question them about."

"We have a voice match on Phelps and the man on the tapes?" McCoy asked.

"I had a warrant in hand when he was arraigned to get a tape of his voice," Casey replied. "CSU should have the ID confirmed this afternoon."

"Good," McCoy responded. "What else do we have from those taps? Do we have anything that ties Phelps to the kidnapping or the killings in Atlantic City?"

Nodding, Nick reached for a file in the stack before him. "These are the transcripts of several taped conversations between 'Doc' and Mikhaylov where they are discussing resolving a problem to protect Doc's boys… 'taking care of the hired help in Atlantic City' has to be Cambiati. Mikhaylov even joked… 'You just can't get good help these days, ah, Doc?'"

Sliding an extra copy of the transcripts across the table to McCoy and Branch, he added, "They also made a couple of comments that tie them to the Scott kidnapping… 'that interfering bitch' becoming a 'dead hero'… promising 'that arrogant fucker' might 'see eye to eye once we have his little bastard'. Apparently, that last one was supposed to be another joke… a play on the fact Scott is an eye specialist. They seemed to find it amusing. There's more… I've highlighted the key passages on that copy."

"Until we had a name to put with Doc, those conversations didn't mean anything… at least we couldn't tie them to possible targets," Nick observed. "We've had Mikhaylov under surveillance for over a year, but this is the first break we've had that ties him to a particular crime."

"You have valid wiretaps… warrants are all current?" Branch asked, looking up from scanning the transcripts.

"Yes sir," Sarandon confirmed. "Capt. Larsson and I got them reauthorized six weeks ago. DOJ was already looking over our shoulder hoping we could give them Mikhaylov."

"They're also interested in Phelps' involvement in a couple of development schemes they have under investigation," McCoy added. "Claudia offered a little bait hoping I would bite. They knew Mikhaylov had been hiding his money in various investments, but no one knew who his silent partner was. ID'ing 'Doc' gives us all that missing piece of the puzzle."

Pausing to silently mull over several thoughts, Branch ordered, "We need to pull this together as quickly as we can. I don't want to run the risk of having the Yegorovs turning up with a shank in their hearts before we get them before a jury… or run the risk of loosing them to the Feds because we were slow off the mark. Jack, assign second chairs for both Casey and Nick so they can focus on the main threads of our cases. You and I need to be available to provide whatever support they need, so plan on daily briefings for now... 8 a.m., my office."

"I anticipated that," his EADA replied. "I thought Andy Mercado to second for Casey and Tom Seale as Nick's second chair."

Nodding, Branch continued. "Good. We need to see if we can track those investments. I'll talk to Claudia and see what they want. I'd rather not get into a pissing match with DOJ if we can avoid one. We may need their help to get our hands on out-of-state records and accounts."

Adding a few notes to his pad, Jack looked up to meet his boss's gaze. "I hesitate to say this… it may be premature to draw any conclusions, but there is strong likelihood the scope of this investigation will widen to include Phelp's father-in-law."

"Saul Rosenthal?" Branch asked, stunned by this development.

"Too early to know if Rosenthal knew who his son-in-law was fronting, but Jack Danvers told Elliot Stabler Rosenthal had money in some of Phelps' ventures," Casey offered, uncomfortable with the knowledge Rosenthal had been one of Branch's biggest supporters when he first ran for DA. Rumors circulating the office hinted that the mercurial Rosenthal had withdrawn his support during the last election. "At this point, there's nothing to suggest he knew the Mob was involved, but that could change once we get further into the investigation."

"I find it hard to believe that son-of-a-bitch would invest in something that risky, but follow it where it leads you," Branch instructed. "If he was foolish enough to invest without knowing who he was dealing with, he has no one but himself to blame. Personally, I'd bet on his leaving Phelps and his grandsons to fend for themselves if it comes down to a choice between backing them or saving himself. He still has one grandson left. He's as cold-blooded as they come. Anything else?"

"Atlantic City has issued arrest warrants for the two hitters in the killings down there based on the statements we obtained from the Yegorovs. They have five bodies in their morgue, two of them cops, so they're moving fast," Nick Sarandon reported.

"Five?" McCoy repeated. "Last I heard it was four."

Sighing, Casey responded, "The bystander caught in the shooting outside the hospital died late yesterday."

"Got it. I got a call from their DA this morning, Arthur," McCoy offered. "They're convening a grand jury on Phelps and Mikhaylov as we speak. Are there any leads on the whereabouts of the two hit-men?"

"I spoke with Capt. Larsson about an hour ago," Sarandon replied. "AC's witnesses picked two men out of a photo array as the shooters. Det. Tutuola ID'ed the same two men as the ones he saw the morning of the first shooting. Both men, Pavel Fesenko and Vitaly Zayats, were seen going into strip club in Brighton Beach… _The Volga_, just before noon. It's a known Mob hangout. Mikhaylov does business from a booth in the back. Brooklyn ESU is working with OCTF to go in after them… in a little over an hour if they are on schedule. We plan to arrest Mikhylov at the same time. I'll keep you posted."

--

Cragen looked up as Olivia walked into the squadroom. "I was beginning to think I would have to send backup," he joked. "I take it John didn't make it easy on you getting him to his place and settled."

"And then some, Cap," the beautiful brunette responded, sending Fin an amused smile. "He's still at the hospital… refused to leave Sam's room once we got there. The ICU staff moved a recliner into her room for him… started babying him. I was fighting a loosing battle after he got a hero's welcome from Sam and the nurses, so I finally gave up arguing with them. I warned him I was bringing reinforcements with me after work to drag him home."

"I told him…"

Holding up her hands in mock defeat, she pled, "I know… I know. The nurses conspired against me, but they promised to make him behave."

"He needs to rest…"

"Frankly, he probably better off there than at his place," she observed. "I doubt he would have rested worrying about her… would probably have taken a cab back once I left. At least this way, he's not going anywhere and there are people keeping an eye on him in case he needs anything. Relax, Cap. He'll be OK where he is."

Sighing, Cragen complained, "Some days I think the lot of you are more trouble than you're worth."

"And we love you too, Cap," Elliot joked. "At least you're never bored with us around. Munchkin alone is enough to keep you on your toes."

Frowning, his captain ordered, "Finish up what you're doing A'sap. You and Olivia need to leave within the next five minutes if you want to be there when they raid the strip club."

Swiveling back to face his desk, Fin offered, "Yep, never a dull moment in SVU… even when John isn't around to stir things up."

--

John quietly watched as Samantha drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the stress of the day. Her doctors had visited not long after Olivia had left to return to work. They had agreed to schedule her surgery for the following morning… provided she continued to improve and no new complications arose in the interim.

Tightening his hold on her hand, he softly vowed, "One way or the other, you won't be alone, Sam. I'll be there for you."

Shifting slightly into a more comfortable position in the recliner, he soon followed her example and fell into a healing sleep.

--

"Don… its Chris. I wanted to alert you before you started getting calls. We've got a standoff down here. They must have seen us coming because they were waiting, armed to the teeth at the door of the club," Christina Larsson reported from her position behind a squad car two blocks down the street from _The Volga_. "They have hostages, so things could get worse before they get better."

"We have at least seven officers wounded… one confirmed dead. We have no information from inside the club, so we're flying blind as too how many are in there," she responded, glancing to her left as Olivia joined her. "I'm fine and so are Benson and Stabler. Two of my men are on their way to the hospital… nothing life threatening that I could see, thank God. We've been pushed back from the front lines by Brooklyn ESU, so we're spectators at this point."

"Not much you can do," Larsson replied. "Brooklyn is running the show since this is their turf. We weren't part of the entry team, so we weren't caught in the crossfire. Someone inside the club opened up on them when they were ten, twelve feet from the front door. Whatever they were using, it went through armor like it was paper."

"Yeah, I'll let you know when something breaks…"

A loud explosion rocked the ground under her feet, throwing everything within several hundred yards of the strip club into the air. The concussion wave emanating from the center of the _Volga_ blasted those in its wake up and away from their previous position. Chris's cell phone dropped at her side as she landed against an overturned car. Her limp body crumpled next to it.

The worried voice of Don Cragen could be heard shouting, "Chris… Chris! What the hell is going on…? Chris!!"

--

8/13/08


	24. Chapter 24

Title: Blind, Chapter 24

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/Benson, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 24

--

Olivia lay sprawled on the asphalt for a minute, waiting for the world to stop spinning. After a moment, she reluctantly lifted her head. To her right, Christina Larsson lay crumpled next to an overturned squad car.

Rolling to her knees, she crawled over to her side. "Capt. Larsson… Chris?"

A groan preceded, "What…?"

Pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket, Liv pressed it to a gash on the other woman's forehead. "Lay still, Captain. You took a pretty hard hit when you landed."

"Landed?" Dazed blue eyes tried to focus on her face. "What… what the hell happened?"

"I don't know," Liv replied. "Stay here… it's probably best that you not move around too much until help gets here. I'll find out what's happening and let you know."

Pulling her gun from its holster, Liv cautiously rose to her knees to look around. To her right, three members of the Brooklyn ESU were struggling to their feet, lurching toward the overturned command center van several yards away from their position. A dozen other officers from various squads were scattered across the middle of the street leading to _The Volga_… at least two had serious injuries and appeared to be unconscious. A few had made it to their feet and were beginning to move in the direction of the wounded. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her protesting body the rest of the way to her feet so that she could see the building where the stand-off had been taking place.

Olivia drew a painful breath at the sight before her. The building that had housed the strip club was engulfed in flames and black smoke, the heavily damaged structure barely visible at the center of the inferno. The five-story building was in the middle of a block, framed by a bisecting street coming in from the south. From her position in the middle of that street, she had no trouble seeing that the fire was spreading rapidly to the buildings flanking it.

Windows up and down both sides of the cross street had been blown out, their shattered remains littering the sidewalks. Building rubble littered the sidewalks and pavement, much of which looked to have once been part of the building's front façade. A wall of smoke made it difficult for her to see what had happened east and west of _The Volga_.

The patrol cars and ESU van that had been parked in a semi-circle in front of the club's entrance had been blown back by the force of the explosion. One of the cars had crashed through the plate-glass window of a store across the street from the club. Its front bumper was protruding through the shattered glass at a 45 degree angle.

Several bodies were strewn across the intersection in front of the burning building, none of them moving. The body closest to the entrance was covered in flames, a sight that left her struggling not to be sick. A few of the officers that had been positioned near the front of the police barricades… those that had survived the blast and were able to get to their feet, had begun to appear from the midst of the dense smoke, most staggering and clinching injured limbs.

Two uniform officers dropped down at her side. The one closest to her glanced in her direction. Meeting his gaze, she demanded, "Do you know what happened?"

"Building blew… looked like the blast came from inside," he offered. "Took out a huge chunk of the building's core… no clue what caused it."

Looking back at the spreading fire, Liv confirmed, "The upper floors and the buildings on either side were evacuated when the standoff began, right? Please tell me no one was left in there other than the ones hold up in the club?!"

"Yeah… unless they were hiding to avoid our sweep. We cleared them before the entry team tried to take the building… took the people in the upper floors out the back," the other officer, a young woman with bright red hair pulled into a messy ponytail, supplied. "You OK?"

"I think so… yeah. You?"

"Same. I'm Carrie Nolan… this is my partner, Phil Mostertz."

"Olivia Benson, Manhattan SVU," Liv offered, sighing in relief as Elliot appeared at her side. He had taken position with several members of the OCTF behind the barricade to the west of _The Volga_. "This is my partner, Elliot Stabler. You OK, El?"

"Yeah. How 'bout you?"

"I'll make it," she offered.

"We need to get the wounded out of there," he ground out, his eyes fixed on the burning body near the club's entrance. "We need to… do something!"

"You two seem to be the only gold shields able to take command, "Mostertz observed. "The others were too close to the blast, so… Our CO was in the van. He didn't make it. Where do we start?"

"Capt. Larsson with OCTF is conscious, but injured… over by that patrol car," Olivia corrected. "She's ranking for now."

Moving quickly back to Larsson's side, Elliot announced, "Looks like you're in charge, Cap."

Nodding, Chris shifted into a sitting position, ignoring the burning pain in her chest from a couple of cracked ribs. "I need you two to handle the immediate response until we see what we're up against. How many officers do we have still able to work?"

"I see… eleven… maybe twelve besides us?" Liv responded.

"OK… Liv, take most of them and start clearing the nearby buildings… make sure the outer perimeter is still intact," Chris ordered. "Have them start pushing the crowd back ten blocks in all directions. Until we know what made that building blow, no civilians are to come anywhere near this block. Get anyone that's still in the area out A'sap."

Pausing to draw a painful breath, she added, "Tell everyone to cover their mouth and nose with whatever they can find… handkerchief, part of a shirt, whatever… until the fire department gets here with some filters."

Turning to Elliot, she continued. "Take the rest and move the wounded to a triage site. That fire is too hot for us to wait for the fire department and the EMT's. They won't last that long."

"Where is triage, Cap?" Elliot asked, as he waved several officers over to join them.

"Here... around me," Larsson replied. "I hate this, but if they are dead, leave them where they are for now. Concentrate on getting the wounded out of there first. Get moving."

Nodding, the ex-Marine pulled five officers from one side of the group and began to issue orders as he led them into the hot zone. The lining of his jacket became his makeshift mask. The swirling black smoke soon make it difficult to see him or his fellow rescuers.

Turning to the two uniforms that had first joined her, Liv ripped the sleeve from her shirt and wrapped it around her lower face. "Nolan, grab two officers to help you check the perimeter at the eastern end of the street. Start pushing it out… ten blocks in all directions. No one gets into the area except authorized personnel… only NYPD or FDNY… make them show ID if they walk up. Move east and south until you overrun the new parameter coming from the north and west."

"Mostertz, grab those four officers and start clearing that building… I'll get you some help, but move west toward the new perimeter until they are all empty on both sides of the street," she instructed, pointing to a third officer that had joined them. "You… what's your name?"

"Patrillo."

"OK… I need you… and you three to start clearing all the buildings on the block to the east of the blast site… start with the closest and move out from there," she instructed, pointing to several officers that had joined them. "Everybody has to evacuate… no exceptions. Go. Ambulatory wounded are brought to triage here to await transport. Wounded that can't be moved… do what you can for them and make sure EMS knows where to find them fast when they get here."

"I'm headed west… down that street to check that barricade and get them moving it out," she announced, before sprinting off with two uniforms in tow.

One of the task force officers under Larsson's command appeared out of the billowing smoke holding his arm tightly against his body. Waving him to join her, she groped around for her cell phone. Finding it under her left leg, she dialed the number for the Chief of Detectives, Phil Samuels. Hearing him answer with a demand to know if she was alright, she replied "Yeah, I'm… I'll be OK. It's bad, chief. The building is gone… engulfed in fire. No way anyone inside could have survived…"

--

"Your honor, the People request the defendant remain in custody without bail. The People also stipulate it is our intention to prosecute Steven Phelps as an adult," Casey announced, ignoring the cry of shock and dismay from the boy's mother. "We feel Steven Phelps is a danger to the public and is a serious flight risk given his family financial resources."

"Your honor," Trevor Langan interjected, "Ms. Novak is clearly overreaching. The basis of these charges is a tape with an uncertain provenance. We contend that it was illegally obtained…"

"The people can prove the authenticity of the tape and will do so at trial," Casey refuted. "As for the means by which the people obtained the tape, it was left to us in the will of the recently deceased former employee of the Phelps. Michael and Hope Cambiati were murdered over the weekend in Atlantic City and their attorney turned the tape over to the police as specified in the Cambiati's will."

"The tape is inadmissible…" Langan began.

"…which is an issue to be reviewed by the trial judge," Family Court Judge Brenda Sullivan concluded. "Unless you can offer a reason why your client should not continue to be remanded, we're moving on."

"Judge, my client is only 13 and his mother is more than capable of assuming responsibility for her son," Langan replied. "He is a member of a respected family with deep ties to this community. Given his age and the fact he will have adequate supervision…"

"The same supervision that was provided prior to his arrest for participating in the assault in Central Park… the same home where the 3-year old child of one of his parent's employees was brutally raped and tortured," Casey scoffed. "His mother has hardly shown herself capable of controlling her son."

"Mrs. Phelps is pillar of the community and is more than capable…" the defense attorney began.

"And I can't help but notice Mr. Langan hasn't suggested Mr. Phelps is available to supervise his son's…"

"That's enough, Ms. Novak, Mr. Langan," Judge Sullivan interjected. "Given the fact that this is the second serious set of charges brought against the defendant in less than a week… and taking into account the heinous nature of the attack alleged in this indictment, I see no reason to release the minor defendant to the care of his mother. There appears to be serious question as to the ability of his parents to control his behavior. The defendant is hereby returned to the custody of Juvenile Detention to await trial. Given his age, I am loath to send him to Rikers at this juncture. Next case."

--

Exiting the Family Court hearing room, Casey was not surprised when Steven's attorney followed. "Is Branch trying to look tough prosecuting a 13-year old boy as an adult, Casey? That's a decision that I intend to see blows up in both your faces."

Giving her legal opponent a condescending sneer, she retorted, "I wouldn't bet on your success in doing that. Your client is a brutal rapist. We have no intention of seeing him walking free at 18 to hurt another child."

"He's 13 for God's sake!" Langan exclaimed. "Even if you can prove your case… and that's a big if, you think it's appropriate to send a child to an adult penitentiary?"

"From what we've uncovered about this particular 13-year old, I'd say it was a toss-up who has more to be worried about… him or his cellmate," she bit out.

Handing her a blue-hued bundle of motion papers, Langan concluded, "Then, I guess it's a good thing we'll never find out. Motion to exclude the tape and affidavit. The tape was stolen from my client's home and is not admissible."

"Get real. You have no basis for getting it tossed."

"Why don't we leave that one to Judge Petrovsky, but I wouldn't be so confident if I were you."

--

Fin and Don shoved through the press of onlookers toward the barricades surrounding the site of the former Mob hangout. Flashing their badges to the officers manning the perimeter, they took a moment to study the thick plumes of smoke bellowing up from the center of the restricted zone. The smoke was periodically accented with bright orange flames.

Moving forward as rapidly as they dared, they covered the ten blocks as quickly as they could, dodging in and round a tangle of vehicles. The billowing smoke made breathing painful and their pace soon slowed as they began to feel its effects. A large knot of milling police and firemen blocked their path, forcing them to push their way through. Rounding the last corner they came to an abrupt halt, surprised by the size of the fire.

Trading a look of mutual shock, they turned their focus to searching the area for their colleagues… and two very special women. A line of body bags, nine they quickly counted, stretched out along the sidewalk to their left. They had been placed so that they were not visible to the crowd or press behind the outer barricades.

The area was heavy with thick smoke and soot. Seeing more than a dozen feet in front of themselves was almost impossible the closer they came to the blast site. A FDNY paramedic ran past, pausing long enough to shove filter masks into both of their hands with orders to get them on immediately.

Don shouted, "Fin… over there."

Looking in the direction indicated, Fin felt the sick tension that had gripped his body since they had heard about the explosion ease slightly. Olivia was standing fifty yards in front of them, issuing orders to a group of uniforms clustered around her. Her face was grimy with sooty sweat… a blackened filter mask covered the lower half of her face, but he was sure she had never been a more beautiful.

"Liv!"

Weary to the bone, she turned in their direction to see who was calling her. A relieved sigh slipped from her lips as she saw both her lover and commanding officer running in her direction. Both men grabbed her shoulders in a tight grip as Fin demanded, "You OK?"

"Fine… a little banged up, but nothing serious," she replied, sagging a little into their support. "Elliot's OK too. We're helping with the door to door search of the other buildings near the blast. So far, it looks like we got them all out before it blew… no bodies inside, thank God. It could have been a lot worse if they hadn't cleared the upper floors and the adjacent buildings earlier."

"Where's Chris?" Cragen demanded, his eyes sweeping the area for the woman in question. "Is she OK?"

"Should be. They just managed to get her onto a bus… she was the only ranking officer able to take command after the blast until we got some help down here about an hour ago. She propped herself up against an overturned car… ran the show from there," she replied, clinging to their arms for support… her words broken by a racking cough.

Olivia bent forward unable to breath easily, much less speak, as the coughing fit deepened. After a moment, she tried to straighten and continue her report. "Samuels… threatened to have… paramedics… knock her out… to get her to… stand down. Made her… go… to the hospital."

"How bad are her injuries?" Don pressed, torn between pride in their bravery and worry for their wellbeing.

"Broken ribs… gash on her forehead," she offered, still coughing. "I don't know… if there's… more."

The two men traded a concerned look as another uncontrollable coughing fit shook her body and she again bent forward trying to catch her breath. It was obvious Liv had pushed herself too hard and was now feeling the effects of her own injuries. Seeing her legs begin to buckle, Fin caught her in his arms before she hit the ground.

Striding quickly toward a nearby ambulance, he held her protectively close. "That's it for you. You need to rest and let them check you out."

"I'm…"

"Don't even bother," he growled. "You can't even stay on your feet, Liv… not to mention that cough."

An EMT appeared out of the smoke and helped him get her onto a stretcher. "Is she injured?"

"She was here when the damned building blew… been helping get people out of the buildings," Fin supplied, ignoring the irritated look on her face. "She's been breathing this shit and was probably knocked around from the blast."

"OK… relax and let us check her out," the young man urged.

Nodding, Fin sat on the end of the ambulance, never taking his eyes off of her. An oxygen mask replaced the grimy filter mask over her mouth while the EMT began a quick check of her vitals. "Looks like she breathed in a lot of smoke. She's going to be coughing up soot for days. I'm sending her to the hospital for x-rays… she's tender over the ribs and has a nasty bruise on her left shoulder."

"I'm fine…"

"Save it, Det. Benson," Cragen inserted from over Fin's shoulder. "You're going, end of discussion. Fin and I will take your place. You've done your part."

Sagging, she nodded.

"You said Samuels was here?" Cragen asked, looking around for his boss. "I need to report to him and see what he wants us to do?"

The EMT spoke for her. Pointing to their north, the young man reported, "Brass has setup shop one block over in a coffee shop."

"Thanks," Cragen replied, turning to leave. "Fin… stay here until they roll to make sure she stays put… then find me for our assignments."

Nodding his head, Fin shifted to help support Liv as another coughing fit forced her to hang her head over the edge of the stretcher. Once it was spent, he eased her back against the padding of the mattress and secured the oxygen mask back into place.

Giving her a minute to recover, he complained, "Hell of a few days for SVU. I'm beginning to think this case is cursed. You and John both hurt… we nearly got shot… two kidnappings in two days and… I'm ready for that weekend you keep promising."

Her eyes clung to his. He had to bend close to hear, "We're all alive… could have been a lot worse."

Remembering the line of body bags they had passed on the way in, he could only nod in agreement.

--

8/17/2008


	25. Chapter 25

Title: Blind, Chapter 25

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/Benson, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 25

--

"Liv and Elliot are both OK?" John repeated, sagging weakly against the counter of the ICU nurse's station.

"Yeah… they both breathed in a lot of the smoke and soot before FDNY got there and handed out masks. They covered their mouths with what they had available, but it didn't help much in those conditions," Cragen replied. "They probably saved several injured officers' lives with their quick response… cleared the block before the fire began to spread, but they will be paying for it for days. The ER doctor released them an hour ago, but they're both are on medical until Monday."

"Damn, that leaves just Fin to cover our watch," John groaned. "I'll be back to work tom…."

"You're on medical leave until the doctors say otherwise," Cragen ordered. "Fin **and I** will man the fort, so relax."

"Really, Cap…"

"You can see the doctor tomorrow morning and if he says you're fit for duty, fine, but otherwise, I can't let you come back," Cragen insisted.

"At least, I can cover the office," John groused.

"Maybe… up to the doctor."

Frowning, John fell silent for a minute, unwilling to admit just how weak he was. "How's Capt. Larsson doing?"

A deep sigh preceded, "She cracked a couple of ribs in the blast… concussion… bruised kidney, but she'll be OK."

Cutting his eyes at his commander, John demanded, "So why the hell aren't you sitting at her bedside… holding her hand… gazing meaningfully into her eyes… singing her praises for how great she did?"

"Her room's a little too crowded for that," Cragen complained. "Her kids… her mother… even her ex, all showed up before I could get there, so the hand-holding duties had already been taken."

A small grin warned his CO that John was plotting. "You need to make a move, Cap. If you let this pass without making your intentions clear, she's bound to think you're not really interested… and we both know that's not the case. Pull rank… tell them you need to… 'de-brief' her and send them all packing."

"'de-brief' her??" Cragen choked out. "Not really the right time for bad puns… or is this that a sample of your idea of romance? No wonder you have so many ex's. You need to learn the art of subtly."

Glancing over his shoulder at the woman in the ICU bed, John countered, "The reason I have so many ex's is I settled rather than waiting for a keeper. When the right one comes along… it's different… you just know. With my track record… you just know."

"I'll take your word for that," Cragen conceded. "I'm still taking my time…"

"Blowing your chances is more like it…"

--

Fin settled back into the mount of pillows that seemed to overflow from Liv's bed, her head resting against his chest. She had been groggy from the medication the doctors had prescribed to ease the ache of her bruised, sore body. The rush of adrenaline that had flooded her veins in the aftermath of the explosion had finally subsided and she was weary to the bone from the repeated trips up and down stairs looking for people injured in the blast. The cough medicine had been the final straw… she had finally fallen into an uneasy sleep. Coughing fits had already cased her to wake twice.

It was too early for him to consider retiring, but… he hadn't wanted to let her out of his arms. So, Fin lay quietly in the dark, too wired to sleep despite his own exhaustion. Sleep could wait a little while longer.

For now, he wanted to drink in the feel of her warm body draped over his… breath in the herbal scent of the shampoo she had used to rid her hair of the lingering arid smell of the fire… count the beats of her heart, the breaths filling her lungs… to be thankful he still had the chance to do any of those things.

--

Don paused in the doorway of Christina's room. Her mother and daughter had appropriated the room's only two chairs, but the rest of the mob that had overflowed the cramped confines of her room earlier in the evening was now gone. The woman in the bed was either asleep or resting… maybe to avoid the endless stream of chatter coming from her companions.

He had seen many such scenes over the course of his long career. People talked to fill silences hoping to ignore how close they had come to losing someone dear to them, lost in the blink of an eye without time to say a final goodbye… to tell them 'I love you' one last time. Their loved one was 'on the job', so the possibility of something like that happening was a reality they faced each day… the knowledge that that person might go to work one morning and never come home again.

That had been the horrifying reality for six families of NYPD officers that day… for three civilian families as well. The number of civilians inside the club was still unknown. The entire force shared their grief. They also shared a helpless anger mixed with guilty relief that today wasn't **that **day for them.

The specter of death… loss, still hovered around them. Talking kept it at bay… silly chatter meant the situation wasn't that bad… not really… not for them. Their loved one would come home. Today had been the first time he had truly understood what their families endured. He had been talking to her… then an explosion… and silence.

/Too damned close!/

Tapping lightly on the doorframe, Don stepped just inside the room. "How's she doing?"

The two women turned keen eyes in his direction. Something had changed in their demeanor since he had stopped by several hours earlier. The first time they had watched him with vague interest, dismissing him as just another colleague making a courtesy visit. Now… it felt different.

The older woman, Chris' mother, broke into a pleased smile. "Capt. Cragen… so nice of you to come back by. Chris will be happy to see you."

Instinct told him… he wasn't entirely certain what it was telling him, but years of hard-won experience warned him to move slowly and check the lay of the land before getting too far into the room. "Mrs. Schroeder… I hope I'm not intruding."

"Of course not, Capt.," he was reassured. A slender hand extended in his direction to beckon him closer. "I think it's so sweet of you to take the time to check on Christina again. She was so happy to see you when you came by earlier. Please… have a seat. Allie and I would love the company. Chris is sleeping…"

"No, I'm not," a groggy voice interjected.

Moving over to the bed, Don smiled down into Chris' sleepy blue eyes. "I didn't mean to wake you. You need to be resting."

"Just dozing," she insisted. "I thought you had gone back to Manhattan."

"I did, but… I thought I'd check on you… and the others before I called it a night," he offered, slightly embarrassed at how foolish he felt. He mentally kicked himself for sounding like an awkward teenager standing in the middle of the lunchroom asking the class beauty queen to a school dance… out of his league and way too exposed.

A small smile told him she had recognized his attempt to downplay his visit. "How are Olivia and Elliot doing?"

"Well… I… umm… the doctors didn't admit them," he admitted. "I meant…."

The smile deepened. "Thank you. I was hoping you would come back by."

Her comment eased the awkward set of his shoulders and he smiled in return. /Glad I listened to Munch… not that I plan to tell him he was right./

"So… how are you…"

--

"How's Liv?"

Looking up, Fin watched as Casey Novak dropped her briefcase on his desk and took the empty chair next to it. "Hope she's still sleeping. She spent most of the night up and down coughing up soot, so she needs to sleep as long as she can this morning. She was ready to drop by the time I got her home last night. Proud of her though."

"You should be," she agreed. "Elliot?"

"Cap talked to him this morning," Fin offered, a faint smile teasing his lips. "He's the same as Liv, but wanted to be all macho and come to work. Cap told him he was on medical until the doctors said otherwise."

"John? I can't believe three of you guys out like this at same time."

"Neither can I," he admitted. "John sees the doctor later today. Cap said he still had a bad headache and was unsteady on his feet when he drove him home last night. He insisted on staying with Samantha Dunbar yesterday… worried her ex would find a way to get to her. She finally had to insist he go home and get a good night's sleep or he would have slept in a chair by her bed all night."

Pausing for a few seconds, Casey silently debated whether or not to ask the obvious question his comments inspired. "What's up with that? I've never seen one of you get so… involved with one of our vics."

Sighing, Fin rose and walked over to refill his mug with coffee, using the task as a stalling tactic while he decided what to say. Filling a second mug, he set it in front of her before offering, "Can't ready say for sure… but John's… It's complicated."

Frowning, she took a sip of the coffee before demanding, "Complicated how? I don't need any more complications with this case. God knows it has more than enough. I…"

"This isn't about you, Casey… or me or any of us, so we need to respect that," Fin mildly scolded. "I think it started out with John feeling bad she had no one visiting her, so he made a point of looking in on her. It changed… fast. He's… I think he's falling for her. Sam's in trouble and needy, so… I got to admit it has me worried for his sake, but I've got no right to tell him to walk away."

"Well, I do," she insisted, irritably thumping her mug down on the desk. "I can't believe Don is letting…"

"I'm not letting him do anything, Casey," Don Cragen's voice interjected from behind them.

Turning to face the 16th Precinct's commander, she responded, "It sure as hell doesn't look like that to me. You need to get him back in line, Don. If we go to trial and he's involved with her, it could undermine the credibility of his entire testimony. The defense will have a field day."

Frowning, Cragen rested a hip against the side of Olivia's desk as he crossed his arms across his chest and fixed her with a hard stare. "You think that hasn't occurred to me, counselor?"

"Fine… I know you know," she retorted. "Get him to…"

"John's not going to back down on this, Casey" he supplied. "Ask Fin. I ordered him to back off yesterday while he was still in the hospital. He, none too politely, told me what I could do with that order. Hell, I warned him to back off last week… when he might still have listened, but Jack McCoy got involved… told him her security was more important than his objectivity. Well, his objectivity is shot and I don't think there's a damned thing I can do about it at this point even if I pull him off the case."

"Pulling him off the case at this point won't help if the defense gets wind of a personal relationship between him and one of our victims," she complained. "He's primary of record on the Central Park case, so he'll still need to testify about that night… not to mention the unwanted attention pulling him off at this point would cause… you might as well send out a press release announcing it."

"What you so worried about?" Fin demanded, clearly irritated by her attitude.

Frowning at his tone of voice, she proclaimed, "If the defense can convince a jury that John somehow fabricated a case against their clients because he wanted to protect or pursue her, it could get ugly."

"Well, I guess it's your responsibility not to let that happen," Fin asserted, his irritation audible in his voice. "John never met Sam until that night and… he had no clue what she looked like… her personality, nothing other than she was in bad shape when we found her. She was just a vic and he did his job. Period… end of the tale. His reports were all filed in that frame of mind, so don't let them twist the facts. Now doesn't change that."

"Yeah, but they will claim his feelings for her taint his testimony because he has no objectivity where she's concerned," she countered. "And, let's be honest here, Fin… does he?"

Neither man responded to her question. Neither man had an answer that would satisfy her concerns… or theirs. Seeing this, she let the matter drop. She had said all she could for the moment… at least to them. Jack McCoy had moved to the top of her list of people she planned to talk to that day.

Reaching into her briefcase, she withdrew two signed warrants. "Here's the warrant to search the Phelps mansion. I got the whole house and grounds included in the scope. Can you get CSU over there this morning? I'll be surprised if we find much… I'm willing to bet the room where the rape occurred has been scrubbed of any usable evidence, but we still have to make the search. Have them take as many pictures as necessary to document it as the crime scene in the tape."

"I told Judy Siper you were working on getting us in, so she's expecting the call," Fin offered, accepting the warrant. "I'll go over with them this morning."

"Great. The second warrant is for the records of the Chapman Hill Clinic. We got the report back from the Medical Licensing Board that John requested and this one is the only private clinic where Andrew Phelps has staff privileges… he's one of the owners," she reported. "Don, can you have someone serve the warrant and collect the records covered?"

Nodding, Don accepted the second document. "No problem. I'll send Palmieri. You want him to bring the records to you or back here?"

Looking around the nearly empty squadroom, she grinned. "Unless you have a trained mouse hiding in one of the interrogation rooms, who do you plan to have go through them? Send them to me. I have a second chair… Andy Mercado and a couple of investigators assigned to assist me, so I'll get him searching through them for something that fits the description of Rosa Alvarez."

--

John rose from the chair by Sam's bed as the orderlies wheeled her back into her room. The day shift nurse bustled in behind them, helping them ease her back into her bed without waking her. Knowing he needed to stay out of the way while they did their jobs, John forced himself to remain silent until the orderlies left.

"How did it go? Is she OK? How are her vitals? Has she been sick…"

Laughing softly, Tonya held up a hand to halt the flow of worried questions. "Calm down. One question at a time. She came through the surgery without complications. Her vitals are stable… nothing to worry about so far. They used a different type of anesthesia this time hoping to minimize side-effects. They also gave her anti-nausea meds in recovery as a precaution… so far so good. She hasn't been sick yet, but she was feeling quest when she woke up. We need to keep her quiet and relaxed until the anesthesia gets out of her system."

Taking a deep breath, John felt some of the tension that had been eating at him since he had arrived at her room that morning begin to ease. He had taken a taxi from his co-op, still too dizzy to drive himself, but unwilling to endure Fin or Don's silent disapproval. He had arrived to find Sam nervously waiting for the doctors to make a decision about her surgery. His presence had obviously helped Sam relax, a fact that had made the discomfort and hassle of getting there worthwhile.

He had made the trek to the surgical wing at her side, holding her hand while he scanned the halls and rooms for potential danger. Once she had been wheeled inside… the doctor had drawn the line at letting him follow them in, he had gone to talk with Dan Ogilvy. The hospital's security chief had assured him the team in the OR had been thoroughly checked out… every reasonable precaution had been taken. A security guard had been posted just outside the suite and two more were patrolling the corridors in the general vicinity in addition to her NYPD detail.

Relieved that she was as safe as he could make her, John had used the time to visit the departmental doctor for a follow-up examination. Knowing he was needed, he had pushed to be allowed to return to 'light-duty' the next day, but he would be riding a desk for the rest of the week. Given the fact both Olivia and Elliot were both out of commission, he knew Don and Fin would be happy to have even that much help.

Sam had been in recovery by the time he had returned. Her doctor had already come and gone by then, so he had been unable to get more information than, "Ms. Dunbar is resting comfortably."

Catching Tonya's eyes, he asked, "Have you heard how it went?"

"Dr. Matsoukis came by while you were in the cafeteria having lunch," the nurse supplied, drawing him out of the room so that they could talk more freely. "He said it went as well as they expected… but no better. She's going to have to have more surgery… lens implants in all likelihood. They still think they will eventually be able to restore at least part of her sight."

Looking back at the sleeping woman, he pressed, "Will she be able to see anything until then?"

"From what he told me, she will be able to detect movement which she couldn't before," Tonya offered. "She may be able to see blurry shapes and outlines… she'll be able to register levels of light better. Once they implant corrective lens, she should be able to see more detail. I expect she will be wearing glasses for the rest of her life, but she will be able to see. I think the real question will be how much."

"But she won't be blind?" John repeated, needing to have that assurance before she woke up and wanted answers.

"She won't be blind in the sense she can't see anything, but…" Frowning slightly, she patted his arm. "She'll be legally blind… her vision is permanently impaired, John. Maybe if she hadn't been so badly hurt when they brought her in, they could have treated her eyes more aggressively, but that wasn't an option. She was barely alive from blood loss, so saving her life was top priority. Frankly, I doubt there was ever anything they could have done that would have made much difference… the injuries to her eyes were just too profound."

Sighing, he nodded before moving back toward the door to her room. "I understand. I'm going to sit with her for the rest of the day if that's OK."

Shaking her head, Tonya teased, "Aren't you supposed to be on medical leave, detective?"

A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "I'm in ICU, so who can complain."

"Speaking of which," she added, "Dr. Matsoukis may move her to a regular room in a few days depending on how she responds to the surgery. The infection is gone, her fever is back to normal, and the wound in her side is healing. He'll probably upgrade her condition later today after he assesses her response to the surgery."

Nodding, he paused beside her bed and adjusted with the blanket covering her. Satisfied everything was in order, John sank into the relative comfort of the recliner. Taking her hand in a gentle clasp, he settled back to wait for her to wake… and to doze in the quiet of the ICU.

--

A/N -- Hope you're enjoying the story. Feedback welcome.

8/21/08


	26. Chapter 26

Title: Blind, Chapter 26

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/Benson, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

Blind, Chapter 26

"And I can assure you that this is the only wine cellar in the mansion, Det. Tutuola. I have told you more than once that there isn't a room such as you described. You have obviously been misinformed," Thomas Reboli proclaimed. "Perhaps this will finally convince you that young Mr. Steven is not the monster you would have us believe."

Fixing the arrogant and self-impressed man with a glare, Fin demanded, "Either you show us where the room is…"

"Detective… you need to see this."

Turning to find a pleased grin on the face of Senior CSU Tech Judith Siper, he demanded, "See what, Capt? We're not even in the right part of this maze."

"Oh… I think we are," she retorted, running her hands over the brick cladding the walls of the hallway leading to the wine cellar. "You're not going to believe this but…"

--

"Cap said you were supposed to be on medical for the rest of the week."

Grinning unrepentantly at his partner, Elliot dropped a bag from a deli down the street in the middle of Fin's desk. "Walls were already closing in. No reason why I can't answer phones and dig through files. Coughing won't get in the way of that."

Snagging the bag, Fin looked inside with interest. He had missed breakfast and hadn't had time to stop for lunch. "Thanks, man. I'm starving. I just got back from a search of the Phelps' place and haven't had time to grab anything."

"Figured," Elliot replied. "Been busy otherwise?"

Spreading his lunch out on his desk, Fin admitted, "Usual calls and shit. Glad to have some help… as long as Liv doesn't decide to follow your lead. She needs to rest."

Nodding, Elliot settled into his chair and began to thumb through the stack of messages piled in the middle of his desk. "I got a filter mask a lot sooner than she did. EMT's were on the scene within a few minutes of our beginning to pull the injured out of the hot zone, so they made sure we were wearing them before we could continue. Liv and her crew were clearing buildings, so they didn't get them as soon. Plus, she was up and down more stairs than I want to think about. She needs to rest more than I do."

Biting his pickle in half, Fin fixed Elliot with an evil grin. "I wouldn't let her hear you say that if I were you. You'd be looking for some stairs in a hurry!"

"True," Elliot agreed, returning the grin. "Find anything useful in the search of the Phelps place?"

A snort of irritated amusement proceeded, "This damned case has more loops than a _Slinky_. Bastard tried to hide the entire room where the rape happened… had it bricked over."

"What??"

Warming up to his tale, Fin nodded. "We had to tear down a whole wall to find it! Good news is he thought that was going to be enough to cover up sonny-boy's crimes."

"He walled up the whole damned room?" Elliot repeated, clearly startled by this piece of news.

"Yeah. If we hadn't known the room was there, we'd never have found it," Fin confirmed. "Took Siper several minutes to figure it out. She says they put up new brick from one end of the hall to the other so there were no obvious differences in it or the age of the mortar to give them away. She used radar to confirm her theory, then we broke out the sledgehammers. Sweet!"

"Sorry I missed the fun! Phelps just walled up his son's torture chamber and expected to hide it from the world… unbelievable," Elliot repeated, breaking into a big grin. "Didn't the staff notice?"

"Only the head butler has a key… skinflint doesn't want the servants helping themselves to his wine and the other expensive goodies he stores down there I guess," Fin joked. "Wall was up before the new butler was hired, so he didn't know. Loved the look on his pompous-assed face when he realized what was what! He was all high and mighty until we took down that wall! I think the Phelps will need to hire another butler before the week is out!"

"I guess Doc thought he was too powerful to have to worry about someone taking a sledgehammer to his mansion," Elliot observed, his chuckle turning into a deep, racking cough. "Oh how the mighty**… Cough…** have fallen **…Hack, cough…** couldn't happen to a nicer **…Cough hack hack cough…** guy!"

"Bastard is just too damned arrogant for his own good," Fin agreed, eyeing his partner as he tried to decide how to get him to go home without a fight… or a direct order from Cragen. "If he had hired a professional cleaning crew, doubt we would have found much. Walling up the room preserved the evidence. Casey was almost dancing when I told her what we found. Says it proves Phelps had knowledge of the rape and tried to cover it up. A cleaned room is a lot easier to explain than one you tried to hide behind a brick wall."

Struggling to clear his throat of the aftereffects of the smoke, Elliot agreed. "Yeah, even the most gullible jury would have a hard time buying it was all innocent… most remodels are to add rooms, not brick one up."

"Yeah. Anyway, CSU found blood and hair… lots of trace, right where the tape showed the rape happening," he offered. "Walls inside the room had been wiped down, but it was a half-assed job since we still found untouched splatter."

"Anything else?'

Nodding, Fin added, "Turner found scraps of burned cloth and bits of a burned foam cushion in or around a barrel behind the garage. Thinks the cloth is from a green plaid blanket like the one we saw on the tape. Foam's probably from an exercise mat under the blanket … you can see parts of it in the background of the tape. Luminaled what he found and got traces of blood."

"Sweet." **Cough cough hack cough cough.**

"Found several pieces of clothing in Steven's room with blood stains… pair of shoes and some boots… mattress was new, so nothing to help with the earlier attack on the other little girl." Pausing to take a big bite out of his meal, he took a moment to savor the taste before swallowing. "We got the whole deal with the new wall on tape… hundreds of pictures to document everything else. Lawyers from Langan's firm and the butler dogged every step we made so they can't claim the evidence was planted."

"Definitely not an everyday occurrence having a perp try to hide the entire crime scene… a body yeah, but not a room," Elliot observed, taking several cleansing breaths in hopes of clearing his lungs. "Anything else happening?"

"Casey wanted one of us to sit down with her this afternoon and outline what we still need to investigate so she can get some investigators from the DA's office working. List is going to be long… too damned long for today. I got her to wait until tomorrow when Munch is back… reminded her he's technically lead on this one," Fin supplied before taking a second bite out of his sub.

"Doctor's letting John come back this soon?" **Cough cough**.

Eyeing him critically, Fin finally nodded. "Yeah, but he's on light duty for the rest of the week. Doc says we got to send him home if his headaches get any worse."

Nodding, Elliot held up a pink message slip. "Have you or Cragen talk to O'Halloran today? He called this morning."

"Not that I know about. Cap left before I did for meetings with the brass at One PP. I've been out most of the day doing demo work," Fin responded, before finishing the last of his sandwich. "Does the message say what he wants?

"Naw… just to call," Elliot replied, grabbing up his phone.

Fin finished his lunch, listening with half an ear to the conversation his partner was having with the CSU tech. Rummaging through the deli bag, he was rewarded with a smaller bag containing several large chocolate chip cookies. Selecting one with macadamia nuts, he settled back to enjoy the treat when the word 'bomb' snapped him to full attention. Eyes narrowed, he fixed his gaze on Elliot and waited… none too patiently, for the call to end so he could ask the obvious question.

--

"How is she?"

Startled, John jerked awake. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled in greeting to Lucy and Rebecca Hellman. Struggling to rise, he gratefully subsided into the recliner at the two women's insistence. "She's still sleeping. They gave her something before they brought her up from recovery, so she will probably sleep most of the afternoon."

Frowning slightly, Lucy whispered, "I was hoping to speak to her before I went home."

"I'll tell her you came by," he promised. "She'll be happy to know you're home with your family."

"How are you feeling? They told us you were hurt…"

"Bump on the head," he inserted, hoping to avoid explaining the circumstances under which he was injured. "Doctor said my head is as hard as a rock, so I'll be fine."

The tiny smile his comment produced was cancelled out by the tears that hovered at the tip of her lashes. "Mom says all men have hard heads."

"Your mother is a wise woman," he agreed. "How are you?"

"Better," she offered. "I… How did… how did Sam's surgery go?"

Forcing himself to his feet, John moved to join them at the door of Sam's room. In a low voice, he answered, "I haven't spoken with her doctor, but her nurse said it went well. She'll be fine."

"Can she see?"

Hoping to avoid upsetting her, he hedged, "They think so."

"What does that mean, detective?" her mother demanded, knowing that her daughter needed the truth… and so did she. They had tried to visit Samantha several times over the last few days, but had been told she was not well enough for visitors.

They had not failed to notice that John had rarely left her side… a development both found intriguing. The teen's guilt, unwarranted but keenly felt, over Sam's condition had retarded Lucy's own recovery. It had been part of the reason her release from the hospital had been delayed.

Sighing, John debated how much to say. "Let's talk down the hall so we won't wake Sam."

After checking to be sure they were alone and would not be overheard by outsiders, he offered, "From what I've been told, she should be able to see light and movement after today's surgery, but not much else. It will take lens inserts before she will be able to make out shapes. Glasses will help fill in some of the details, but it's probably not going to get any better than that."

Lucy's eyes clinched shut as she struggled to contain the pain his words caused. Knowing what she was feeling, he crouched next to her wheelchair and took her hand. "What happened to Sam isn't your fault, Lucy. You bear none of the blame for any of this."

"But Sam…"

"Sam made a choice to help you," he insisted. "She's told me more than once she doesn't regret her decision even if she never gets her sight back. Respect that and be her friend… help her adjust, but don't forget to live and enjoy your own life. It would be a shame to see you holding on to guilt for something you didn't do. OK?"

"How can she feel that way, John?" the young woman demanded, the tears she had been holding back finally spilling down her pale cheeks. "If she had just…"

"Just what, Lucy? Just ignored what was happening to you? Just stood back and let them continue to hurt you without trying to help?" he demanded. "Just kept on jogging while you screamed for help? She could never have lived with herself if she had 'just' done any of those things. She knows what its like to cry for help and have nobody do anything."

Frowning slightly, Rebecca pulled a chair up next to her daughter's wheelchair and gently tugged her head over onto her shoulder as she wrapped her arm around her. "There's more to that statement than we know isn't there, Det. Munch?"

"Yes there is," he replied, "but it's not up to me to say more. Sam will tell you if she wants you to know."

"We couldn't help but notice she hasn't had any visitors except the three of us in the entire time she has been here," Rebecca began, choosing her words with care.

"Her parents died in a car wreck when she was not much older than Lucy," John offered, hoping to contain their curiosity. "Her only other family is her brother, Matt and he's in the Air Force serving in Iraq. She's divorced and new to the City, so she doesn't know many people."

"That confirms something that has been worrying us," she admitted. "My family is… concerned that she might not have all the support she needs to recover from her injuries. While Lucy is not responsible for what happened to her, we are eternally grateful to her for what she did. Whatever help she needs, she'll have it."

"I'm sure she will appreciate hearing that, but…"

"Lucy and I… overheard your conversation last week. We know she's worried about her future… how she will pay for her medical care." Pausing to meet her daughter's tear-filled eyes, she added, "We have already informed the hospital that we will assume responsibility for any outstanding expenses she will incur during her recovery… here, at home, or with future procedures. We won't stand by and leave her to struggle if her injuries make it difficult for her to work. We don't want her to be worried about money when she has far more serious problems to face. Will you tell her that for us? We will come back to visit later this week, but… maybe that will ease some of her fears."

"It will… I'll be sure to tell her. Thank you."

"You… care about her don't you John?" Lucy asked, distracted for the moment by the play of emotions on his face as he processed her mother's comments. Their offer of help for Sam meant a lot to him since it would help remove some of the burdens plaguing her.

A silly grin greeted her words, erasing years from his features. "Yeah, I do. Sam's pretty special."

"That's so romantic!" Lucy whispered, a sweet smile brightening her features as he confirmed her suspicions. A jagged line of scar tissue slashing across her face marring the physical perfection of her face, but her smile came from the heart underscoring what was truly beautiful about her.

Groaning, John mock complained, "Not you too!"

Relieved to see her daughter smiling again… perhaps plotting to see her two rescuers paired up, Rebecca teased, "I take it you're causing a stir?"

Looking at the pair over the top of his glasses with one of his trademark smirks, John admitted, "I've been called 'sweet' and 'romantic'… accused of being 'smitten' all in the space of two days! And, then there's the nurses. They've been patting me on the hand and clucking over me like mother hens… I can tell they are barely restraining the urge to call me… God forbid, 'cute'! My reputation as a tough, street-savvy cop is in serious jeopardy if this keeps up!"

The sight of the giggling teen, for the moment focused on matchmaking… he had seen the same look her mother had, was his reward.

--

"Has the ME's office been able to ID any of the remains from the fire?"

"That's going to take a while," Ryan O'Halloran replied, as he swiveled on his stool to face his visitors. "I talked to Warner this morning on another case and she said Brooklyn had requested dental records for some of the suspected victims, but… they're still trying to pull together a list of who might have been inside when the building went up."

Trading a look with Elliot, Fin asked, "They got a body count yet?"

"23… but that might still rise," the CSR Tech admitted. "Buddy of mine over there says some of the corpses were huddled together in the back, so they fused in the heat. ME's pretty sure all of them died instantly from the force of the bomb blast."

"This buddy of yours the source of your information?" Elliot demanded. "We've been told… **cough cough hack**… it may be days until we know what made the building blow."

"Yes and no," Ryan hedged as he turned and began to sort through the files on his desk. "I got called over to help process some of the scene. I've just completed certifications in advanced bomb detection at Quantico. It will be a few days before they release the information to the press… brass wants to know who was behind the bomb before they alarm the public."

"How long will that take since you're our resident expert?" Fin prompted.

"That I can't say… they hadn't even planned to tell you guys anything until they knew the answer to that one," Ryan supplied. "I managed to convince them SVU needed to know since you might run up on another one. I called you as soon as I got the clearance. Whoever made it is a pro."

"Thanks for getting us the heads-up," Fin offered. "What can you tell us that might help us spot another one before it goes off?"

"Not much… you won't be able to tell by looking. I just wanted you to know the danger was out there so you could be on the lookout for boxes, packages… that sort of thing," Ryan replied. "A bomb like that is too big for an envelope, but anything bigger than a shoebox needs to be handled with care."

"OK, what can you tell us about the bomb itself?" Elliot asked, his breath coming in a painful wheeze between coughing fits.

"Well… it looks like it went off near the main bar," the tech reported, glancing at Fin trying to gauge his reaction to his partner's condition. Seeing the frown turned in Elliot's direction, he decided to finish his report as quickly as possible in hopes the detective would head home to rest. "Bomb had a pretty sophisticated timer hardwired to the detonator. Whoever made it wasn't taking any chances it wasn't big enough to do the job. Preliminary reconstruction suggests it blew up and out… probably killed everyone in the club with the initial blast. It blew a hole in the ceiling up to the fourth floor."

"Damn!"

"Yeah… the primary explosives were packed around a core of incendiary material," Ryan continued, "enough to ensure the blast ignited a major fire. Given the timer and the overkill on the design, I'd say the bomber was after a target or targets he knew would be at _The Volga_ at that time of day."

"Mikhylov," Elliot offered, wiping his streaming eyes with the back of his hand. He had seen Fin's look and was trying hard to control his coughing in hopes of avoiding another lecture about listening to the doctors. "Capt. Larsson told us he frequented the club every afternoon… did business from a booth in the back. Their surveillance had him arriving at the club at his usual time. May explain why the hitters from AC were there too. They were setup to be killed in the same blast."

"The bar was in the back of the club," Ryan offered. "You think it was a hit on them and the rest were just collateral?"

"Fits what we know… working theory until something better comes along," Fin agreed. "Question in my mind's not if Mikhylov was the target… I want to know why yesterday."

"What are you thinking?" Elliot pressed, fixing his partner with a steady gaze. The effect was marred by another round of coughing.

"I don't believe in coincident," Fin replied, shaking his head at his partner's stubborn behavior. "From what you're saying, it wasn't the type of bomb you just throw together and toss inside. The bomber had a plan which means he had time to think it through. That says to me, he knew we were coming to get Mikhylov. Even if it was someone wanting to take him out to make room for himself… maybe keep him from talking, why wait until we're fixing to knock down the door?"

"Because someone told him when we were coming and he wanted to take out some of us in the bargain. It would be pretty easy to blame the blast on a mistake by the police… at least in the press… Waco all over again. That would allow him to hide his hit in plain sight and disrupt the investigation in the process," O'Halloran concluded. "That means…"

"We have someone on the inside that sold us out."

--

A/N -- Well, what do you think of the story so far??

9/11/08


	27. Chapter 27

Title: Blind, Chapter 27  
Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/Benson, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

_A/N -- RL limits my writing time, so this story is taking a lot longer to finish than I'd hoped. I'm sorry for the long delay in updating, but wild doesn't begin to describe the last couple of months. I'll also repeat the obvious... this story was started before the events of the last two seasons. That means Blind is AU and will stay that way to the end. Hope you're enjoying the read. Feedback is soooo welcome!_

Blind, Chapter 27

--

"I thought I told you not to report for duty until the doctor cleared you," Don Cragen demanded. "First John… now you. Have I ever had command of this unit or have you all just been humoring me by calling me Captain?"

Shooting Fin a wicked grin, Elliot asked, "You really want to know the answer to that one… Captain?"

A tired smile accompanied a shake of his head. "I'd prefer to continue deluding myself. What have you got?"

Fin followed Elliot into Cragen's office and took a seat on the edge of the credenza. "O'Halloran called. He worked the crime scene in Brighton Beach yesterday… he's been through advanced training at Quantico and they wanted his skills. He says it was a bomb that took out the club and everyone in it. Hitter used a timer and incendiary materials on top a hell of a lot of explosives for a sure kill. From what Capt. Larsson told us, timing seems right for it to have been Mikhylov the bomber was after."

Sitting up straight in his chair, Cragen fixed his detectives with a hard stare. "O'Halloran gave you this information? Have you discussed it with anyone else?"

"No… we came straight to you after we finished with him. He said Brooklyn originally planned to keep us out of the loop, but he got clearance to tell us… realized we might stumble onto another bomb and not know the risks," Elliot replied, trading a puzzled look with Fin. "No big surprise, Cap. Everybody that was there figured it to be a bomb… only logical explanation unless it was a leaking gas line and that would have taken out more than the one building. Is there something going on we don't know about?"

"O'Halloran wasn't cleared to say anything to you two… or anybody else for that matter," Cragen replied, running a weary hand across his balding scalp. "Brooklyn DA and the Chief of Detectives clamped a lid on the case… need to know only, until they say otherwise. OCTF is handling the investigation from here on out and we're on the sidelines… at least for now. Did Ryan say who cleared him to give you the info?"

"No… he just said he called me as soon as he could," Elliot replied, irritated by this news. "How come we're cut out this investigation when we are the ones to break it open? From what Casey said, Branch wants this one, so why's Brooklyn trumping our play?"

"I was reminded organized crime wasn't our turf. Branch worked a deal where his ADA Nick Sarandon is working with Brooklyn to keep them in the picture," Cragen responded, cutting into Elliot's building rant. "I don't like it either, but I've got my orders."

"This sucks!" Elliot insisted, refusing to be dissuaded. "OCTF was stuck at square one for the past year until we bailed them out! We're just supposed to sit around here with our thumbs up our asses while they steal our case out from under us? They'd still be in the dark if it wasn't for our work."

"You're not supposed to be doing anything around here, Det. Stabler," Cragen responded. "You're on medical. I'm going to grab an early dinner since I missed lunch. I don't expect to find you still here when I get back or we'll be discussing a rip for insubordination."

Ignoring the dangerous tone in his CO's voice, Elliot pressed, "I still haven't figured out how OCTF managed to miss ID'ing Phelps as their mysterious 'Doc' for so long. From what Danvers told me, it wasn't exactly a secret Phelps had gotten into bed with the Russians. How did they miss…"

"That's enough!" Cragen bit out. "We made the connection because we came at it from a different angle... dumb luck and nothing more. OCTF wasn't looking at Phelps under a magnifying glass like we were, so any gossip that might have been going around about him wasn't likely to hit their radar. High society doesn't usually overlap with the Russian Mob."

"Cap… I've heard it from more than a few sources since we arrested Phelps that those rumors were flying around more than just the Upper East Side. When we took him to central booking, Liv and I had two beat cops comment that it was about time someone nailed him," Elliot insisted, planting his fists in the center of Cragen's desk so that he could loom over the older man. The wheezing quality to his breathing spoiled the effect. "One of them even told Liv he had talked to a buddy at OCTF. Friend called back and said it didn't pan out. He'd written the rumors off as gossip until we brought Phelps in for processing."

"Just what are you suggesting?" Cragen demanded, rising to his feet to lean over his desk. Nose to nose with Stabler, he growled, "I've known Chris Larsson for years and she would have run any rumor like that into the ground. If they had it, they would have taken Phelps down."

"I'm hearing the same thing, Cap. Mikhylov's niece isn't Phelps' first Natasha. My sources say he used to make regular house calls to the same bath houses and strip clubs down in Brighton Beach the _Bratka_frequent… only stopped going a year or so ago," Fin inserted, hoping to ease the sudden tension in the room. "And El didn't say Capt. Larsson even knew about the rumors. If there's someone on the task force running interference for the Mob, she'd be the last one they'd tell about a credible lead."

Glaring at his detectives, Don ground out, "Like I said, I've known her for years and she runs a tight ship. She'd know if someone working for her was dirty."

"Come on, Cap," Fin retorted. "We both know a dirty cop can hide in plain sight and never get noticed until someone fingers him. The cop at the 2-7 that you took down when you ran the corruption task force… you said yourself he was the last one you'd have suspected. And, it may not be a cop. OCTF has members from other agencies and departments… from all the boroughs. She can't know them all."

"Chris would know…"

"Cap… you came down hard on John at the hospital yesterday, telling him he was risking our case letting his personal feelings get in the way of his objectivity," Elliot observed, his cough interrupting the flow of his arguments. "Sounds to me…"

"Sounds to me like you're way out of line, Det. Stabler," Cragen growled. "My objectivity isn't in question."

"Glad to hear it," Elliot responded, gasping slightly to catch his breath. "Look, I don't mean to be flip, but this stinks and you know it. **Cough cough** I'd like to know whose idea it was to give us the boot."

The tension in the office had grown oppressive as the silence stretched for several minutes as the two men continued their standoff. When the phone in the main squadroom rang, Fin rose quickly and walked to his desk to answer it, relieved to have a reason to escape. Seeing Fin grab a pad and start taking notes, Elliot straightened and started to follow, assuming they had a new case.

Cragen's voice halted him at the door. "You've raised several valid questions even if your methods were way out of line. I'll try to get to the bottom of this… but I have to tread lightly until I know what's going on. Unless I say otherwise, I don't want this conversation to go any further. We're officially off the Mob investigation and I don't want any of you going behind my back poking around. Got it?"

Pausing in the doorway, Elliot met his commander's stern gaze for a moment before nodding. "Got it. What about Liv and John? They have the right to know what's going on."

Hesitating briefly, Cragen authorized, "You can tell them but no one else. We all need to be on our toes with this one, so listen to your instincts and keep each other informed... make sure that includes me. Until I figure out what is going on, it's just the five of us. You find yourself working a lead that takes you back to the Mob or Andrew Phelps that's outside of the investigation of Steven Phelps, I want to know A'sap. We've lost enough good cops in the last 24; I don't want to add any of you to the list."

Before either could say more, Fin leaned around Elliot. "Got a call… body of a young woman has been found behind a dumpster on Hudson's campus. Looks like she was raped, then strangled."

Seeing Elliot preparing to head to the scene… the racking cough he was struggling to control, Cragen ordered, "I'm with Fin. It's after 6, so go home and get some rest. No arguments. I've got enough on my plate without having to explain why a detective in my command disobeyed medical orders and was working a crime scene."

--

"Munch still out of commission?"

Looking up, Elliot nodded in response to Ruben Morales' question. "Yeah, but he's due back in the morning… ass duty for the rest of the week. What's up?"

Ignoring the question for the moment, he asked, "Aren't you and Liv supposed to be on medical too?"

"I'm tougher than they are… just don't tell them I said so," he joked, before admitting, "Walls were closing in so I volunteered to watch the phones while Fin and Cragen went on a call. I was just about to call it a day. You need John or can I help?"

"You'll do. I wanted to update him on the worm used to wipe the files at the Winthrop," the TARU tech replied, dropping into the chair next to Elliot's desk. "I had a visit from the FBI right after lunch. They matched the worm our hacker used to one that wiped a server in Montana last year."

"OK, I'll tell John when he comes in," Elliot offered, his voice broken by a harsh rattle. "Does that make it harder or easier to trace who infected the school's computers?"

"Can't answer that yet," Ruben admitted, opening the bottom drawer of Elliot's desk knowing the detective kept a stash of M&M's there. Ripping open a bag, he popped a few into his mouth.

"Help yourself," Elliot complained, glaring at the younger man. "I've been blaming Liv for raiding my horde, but it was you!"

"Me… Liv… John… Fin… Cragen… Novak…"

"OK, I get it," Elliot conceded, pausing as a coughing fit hit. In a gravelly voice, he muttered, "I guess I need to find a new place to hide the goods."

"That or buy in bulk," Morales agreed, studying the detective with a critical eye as he emptied the last of his bag into his hand.

"Right, I'll do that," he scoffed, drawing a wheezing breath. "You were saying… FBI… worms?"

Selecting a red piece, Ruben took a moment to savor the smooth chocolate melting on his tongue. Grinning as Elliot loudly cleared his throat in an attempt to get him talking, he offered, "The Feds were investigating a large land development that defrauded a bunch of small investors when someone used the same worm to wipe the computers of the development's LLC and its accountants. It destroyed everything. Feds were never able to trace the worm to its source or recover any of the data it wiped. To their knowledge, this is only the second time it's been used, so they confiscated all of the computers at Winthrop and are questioning anyone that might be involved."

"What was the development?"

"A ski resort out west," Morales supplied. "After the project went belly-up, the federal and state authorities got involved with the locals. A bunch of private law suits were filed by the investors trying to recover their investment, but nobody could find out where any of it went. None of the important documents were produced… the records that were turned over were clearly fraudulent. It was a real mess apparently."

"So they lost everything on the computers?"

"Yeah. The worm wiped out the computer records… internal emails and documents," Ruben confirmed. "That was followed by a fire that destroyed the offices where the original records were allegedly kept. It all came to a head when the company's accountant and CEO were both killed in a car accident that turned out to be anything but accidental. When the smoke cleared, nobody and nothing were left to make a case for fraud. They couldn't tie the murders to anyone since it looked like a professional hit."

"Shit! Development was called Carrington… Parrington Gate… something like that, right?" Elliot exclaimed.

"Arrington Gap… how would you know that?" Morales asked, frowning as Stabler was bent double by a racking cough. "You should go home."

Nodding faintly, Elliot forced a deep breath into his lungs. His voice was raspy as he answered, "Heading out… in a … minute. John… John was in full rant mode about it a year or so ago… another of his conspiracies."

Ignoring the detective's attempts to downplay the lingering effects of his exposure to the smoke and soot of the fire, Ruben rose and disappeared into a nearby hallway. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water. "Here, drink some of this. You need to flush your system of all that crap."

Nodding jerkily, Elliot accepted the bottle and took a sip. Several sips later, his breathing began to ease. Seeing the beads of sweat on his brow and the pale cast of the normally well-tanned features of the detectives, Ruben offered, "I can cover the phones for a few minutes until someone gets back if that's why you're still hanging around here."

"Thanks, but I'm… I'll…" Elliot began, as another couching fit shook his body.

After several minutes, he finally calmed. Sagging weakly, he raked his hands through his hair. "Sorry man. Once I start couching, it's hard to stop."

"No need to apologize to me," the TARU tech replied, "but I still think you need to go home and crash for the rest of the day. Doctors do know something sometimes, right?"

"Yeah, maybe. I was getting ready to leave when you got here… Cragen's orders," Elliot grudgingly admitted. "So, it was that Carrington project?"

"Arrington Gap," Ruben corrected, shaking his head at the detective's stubbornness. "How did John stumble onto it? Seems a little outside of SVU's turf."

Frowning slightly at the unintended reference to turf… he was still angry about the news they had been taken off the Mob investigation, Elliot offered, "You don't spend enough time with John if you can ask that… he lives on his computer at night searching for that type of thing."

"His conspiracy rants are legend in the department," Morales chucked. "We've all experienced the pleasure of Munch in full rant mode."

"Try having the desk next to his," Elliot offered, relenting enough to grin. "Anyway… the developers violated all sorts of environmental regulations… stripped an old-growth forest and destroyed the habitat of some endangered bird or something."

"Sounds like his sort of issue."

Nodding, Elliot continued. "Stuff he was reading said they trucked out a small fortune in timber then disappeared off the face of the planet. The developer… some old guy who had dreamed of developing his land and retiring rich, was left holding the bag when it all went belly-up… died in his sleep of an apparent heart attack. Some right-wing congressman tried to blame a group of protestors for the killings… pissed John off."

"That's the one," Morales agreed. "From what I got out of the agents that confiscated the computers, Gus Arrington was a patsy… lacked the sophistication or financial expertise to pull something like that off… and they told me he was murdered too."

"No shit?"

"Yeah… tox-screens show the heart attack was induced," he supplied. "The other two vics were the ones that talked him into putting up his land for the deal. They made him a figurehead and used him to help lure the other investors into the scheme. All total, over 35,000,000 went missing and the only ones that might have been able to tell the Feds where it went all ended up dead."

"Damn it, I hate it when Munch is right about one of his conspiracies… **cough. **He claimed the Mob was involved but I told him he was full of it. I told him… **cough cough… cough** that it was just another case of a con man that got greedy and someone wanted their pound of flesh," Elliot complained, pausing to try and catch his breath. "Looks like he was right after all. We'll never hear the end of this from him… **cough cough hack cough**… especially since its ending up involved in one of our cases."

"How's this fit in with your case?" Morales asked, rising from his chair in hopes of encouraging Stabler to do the same. "Come on. I need to get home, so you can tell me the rest in the elevator."

"One of our suspects… **cough… cough… cough…** is rumored to have been involved in a development scheme that sounds a lot like this one," the detective replied, shutting off his computer and grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He didn't need any more encouragement; he felt like crap. "If it's the same development, it's no coincidence **cough… cough… cough** that the same worm turns up twice… **cough… cough… cough…** in cases he's tied to. He's the link."

--

"That's some frown."

Looking up to see who was at her door, Casey smiled warmly. "Hi Nick. Come on in."

Smiling back, her fellow ADA sauntered over to the chair across from her desk. Taking a seat, he repeated, "What has you frowning like that?"

"Andrew Phelps," she replied. "We got copies of the patient rosters for a private clinic where he's a part owner and used it to ID a little girl that fits the description of Rosa Alvarez. Took most of the day, but we finally found what we were looking for. Reading the cold, clinical reports of her injuries is somehow harder to accept than viewing the tape."

"That bad?"

"It was as bad as anything I've ever had to watch… and working with SVU means I seen some pretty awful things, but…" she began, only to hesitate unsure of what to say. "How can someone that supposedly dedicated his life to helping people cover up what was done to this poor innocent child? How could the rest of the staff?"

Something flickered deep in his dark blue eyes. "I'm afraid I don't have any answers to that one, Case. If you ever find one, I'd like to hear it myself."

Nodding absently, she noted, "I'll need to issue warrants for the arrest of a couple of the nurses and staff. They had to know the child had been raped and tortured… was being hidden from the police. They need to be held accountable for their part in this business."

"You may have to give them a pass to get them to talk… suspended sentences and loss of their licenses to practice for the full story," Nick cautioned.

"Yeah, I know, but not until they squirm and beg," she agreed. "So… what's up?"

Smiling, he pointed to the clock on her credenza. "It's after 7. It suddenly occurred to me that I missed lunch and I could eat a horse. Care to join me for a nice thick steak… bovine, not equine, and a martini or six?"

A pleased grin erased the lingering gloom from her features. "A martini sounds about right… maybe not six but 2 at least. Give me a minute to freshen up and I'll take you up on that steak… bovine not equine."

"Take your time," he replied. "Some things are worth the wait."

--

A muffled noise alerted John that Sam was starting to wake… a soft moan warning him she was in some distress. Rising to move closer to her bed, he gently ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek in a soothing caress. "Sam… are you in pain?"

Shifting uneasily on the bed, she whispered, "Sick… going to be sick."

Seeing Susie Webber entering the room, he reported, "She's going to be sick, Susie. What do…"

Before he could complete the question, Sam began to struggle to roll to her side. "Help her, John. Get her head over the side of the bed and hold her as still as you can," Susie ordered, sliding a basin into place in the floor next to the bed.

A series of dry heaves left her shivering and moaning. Holding her as still as he could, John watched as Susie pulled a capped syringe from her pocket along with a vial of the anti-nausea medications. She quickly injected the dosage into the port on the back of Sam's hand. A second injection for pain followed.

Feeling her beginning to sag, John shifted her back onto the pillows. Another moan proceeded, "Hold me… please hold me."

Moving carefully, John slipped into her bed and drew her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. Susie helped him pull the covers back around her shivering form. A soft sigh… and Sam fell back into a drugged sleep.

Smoothing her hair away from her face, John gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. With Susie's help, he maneuvered his legs onto the mattress and settled into a more comfortable position on his side. If holding her while she slept helped her deal with the aftereffects of the anesthesia, he was more than happy to help. If holding her while she slept was something he had been wanting to do for days, he wasn't going to complain about that either.

--

10/5/2008


	28. Chapter 28

Title: Blind, Chapter 28

Author: Sorsha_711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/??, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

A/N --- Sorry for the long delay. RL has been insane for months, so play time has been restricted. Obviously, this story began long ago and is clearly AU to the current season. Feedback greatly appreciated!!!

Blind, Chapter 28

-----

"I see they have you working late tonight," Fin greeted Melinda Warner. "What we got?"

Looking up from her examination of the body of a young woman, one that had been stuffed into a dumpster behind one of the academic buildings on the Hudson University campus, she offered, "Gentlemen… I know you guys are short-handed and don't need the work, but I'm afraid this one is yours."

"We'll survive. What can you tell us, Melinda?" Cragen asked, crouching next to her to get a better look at their vic.

"Jane Doe… maybe 17 or 18," the ME began. "She was raped before her throat was slashed. From the looks of her nails, she put up quite a fight, so your doer will have scratch marks all over his arms… maybe his back or neck. He used her face as a punching bag, so his knuckles will be bruised and swollen. Her own mother wouldn't recognize her after this bastard got finished with her."

"Jane Doe… so we don't have a name?" Fin asked, jotting down notes on his pad.

"Sorry, no… no wallet or purse… nothing on or around the body to give us a name. I'll see if I can get a hit on her prints," Warner replied. "Her mouth has been smashed, so I doubt dental records will be much help. The body has significant head trauma… likely post-mortem."

"TOD?"

"From her body temp, I'd say 18 to 24 hours ago," she speculated. "I'll give you a better timeline after I finish the autopsy."

"OK… so, she's late teens… long dark hair… slim… looks like she was above average height."

"Yeah. I'll have exact height and weight for you once we get her to the lab, but I'd estimate she was 5'9" or 5'10"…120 lbs. She has breast implants… should be able to trace her through the serial number if she had the surgery in this country," Melinda provided. "Her hair is black… looks natural from the roots, but I won't know for sure until I can test a strand."

"What else can you tell us?" Cragen asked, rising to begin a quick canvas of the area.

"For now, it looks like the perp took a necklace off of her neck," she speculated, pointing to the tears circling the victim's throat. "Cuts consistent with someone pulling a chain off by force. Couple of rings missing from her hands if the tan lines are any indication. Perp even took her earrings… nearly tore her lobes off. Bastard did a real number on her."

"You think it was a robbery that turned ugly… she resisted and the doer lost control… got brutal?" Fin proposed. Something about that scenario didn't seem right to his trained eyes, but he had to ask.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," she replied. "The body was dumped after she had begun to go into rigor… no sign of a struggle nearby, so the primary crime scene wasn't here. If it was a robbery, I doubt the perp would have taken the time to move her… too much risk of being seen… and too much time passed between her death and the time she was dumped for it to have been a mugging gone bad."

Nodding in agreement, Fin pressed, "That reads. Anything else that might help with an ID?"

"Her fingertips are heavily callused," the ME observed, lifting one of the stiff hands to expose their underside for his inspection. "Strong probably she was a musician… played a stringed instrument. She doesn't appear to be a pro… looks to be in good health. I'm guessing but it looks like she'd recently been living the good life. Her clothes have expensive labels… whoever did her hair and manicure didn't come cheap, so I'll venture a guess she had a rich sugar-daddy paying the bills."

"Why a rich boyfriend and not rich herself?" Fin questioned, adding her comments to his notes.

"I'll be able to tell you more once I get her on the table, but… there are several things about her body that suggest she lived in poverty and had an inconsistent diet as a child. Early experiences like that leave their mark on how the body develops, so I should be able to give you more once I'm done," Warner explained.

"Anything else?"

Meeting his gaze, she nodded. "I'd be willing to bet she's Eastern European... probably Russian."

"What makes you think that, Doc?" Cragen asked, rejoining them by the dumpster. An uneasy feeling was starting to grow in the pit of his stomach as he listened to her description of their victim.

"She has a tattoo on the back of her right shoulder. It looks like several others I've seen in recent years… a stylized butterfly," she offered, rolling the body to the left so they could see the mark in question. "I've done a little research into the significance of various tatts within the Russian Mob. A butterfly usually means the person is considered trustworthy. Some of the American _Bratka_ have taken to marking their women with these, like a brand of approval on a broad mare."

Glancing over at Fin, Cragen noted that the same possibility had occurred to his detective as had occurred to him. "Do you have the address for the condo Phelps bought for his mistress? She plays the cello, grew up in Russia, and our vic the right age. I think we need to check and see if she's been seen recently."

Nodding in agreement with Cragen's conclusion, Fin pulled out his phone. "And her uncle is a _Bratka_ Don… explains the tatt. I'll call the unit and see if someone can get us the address."

-----

Casey walked into the squad room early the next morning, heading directly for the coffeepot. "I managed to find Judge Bradley working early. He gave me a search warrant for the condo. I put my ass is on the line getting it. You're sure you're right about Selina Yegorov being our Jane Doe?"

Walking over to take the warrant, Fin offered, "She hasn't been seen since lunchtime the day before yesterday, day the vic died. We found a friend from Hudson remembered her saying she was meeting someone for lunch and shopping. Can't find anyone that remembers who she was meeting or seeing her since. Her Beemer's in its space at her building… a bag from Saks on the back seat in plain sight."

"Yeah, I told all of that to Judge Bradley. Who do you think told me you had better be right?"

-----

Fin listened to the last of the messages on the answering machine in the Upper West Side condo. "Calls all came in during the last 48 hours. Doubt she came home and didn't listen to them."

Nodding, Cragen disappeared into the unit's only bedroom. "I don't see any sign of a struggle. Everything is reasonably neat, but it has that 'lived in' look, so I doubt it's been cleaned up to cover one."

"Yeah," Fin agreed, pausing to study a line of photographs on a built-in bookcase. "It looks like she left for a normal day and hasn't been back."

Sighing, Cragen walked back into the living room. "Casey isn't going to be too happy with us if we're wrong."

Turning to face his commander, Fin held out one of the framed pictures. "We're not."

Walking over to take the picture, Cragen studied it to see what made his detective so sure. The picture was a candid shot of a pretty young woman leaning into the embrace of an older man… a man they both recognized as Andrew Phelps. "OK… but how does that…"

Cragen fell silent as Fin pointed to the young woman's bare shoulder, the area left bare by the straps of an evening gown. A stylized butterfly had been tattooed onto the pale skin. "Look familiar?"

Nodding, he handed the frame back to Tutuola. "Bag it. I'll grab her hair and tooth brushes from the bathroom so Warner can run DNA."

------

"You're sure… Warner has confirmed the ID?"

Nodding, Cragen slide a copy of a preliminary DNA report across the desk. "Yes sir, we are. The body is Selina Yegorov. She was raped and killed about the same time the bomb was going off at _The Volga_. The Mob investigation keeps finding its way back to my squad."

Phil Samuels looked up from the file to meet the Cragen's steady gaze. "I thought we went through this yesterday, Don. OCTF is handling the investigation from here on out. They'd like to place the blame for what went down at the strip club on your heads… they think one of your people was indiscrete… alerted them we were coming. Frankly, they're saying it wasn't as benign as that."

Pulling himself up to his full height, Cragen demanded, "Chris Larsson is accusing one of…"

"Chris wasn't there… she's still on medical, though I expect she will be at her desk by lunchtime," Samuels supplied. "No, her second in command, George Moser, feels SVU is a liability and he wants your unit out of the picture. It's their turf after all. Give me a good reason to rethink my decision."

"My squad is the one that broke this investigation wide open," Cragen began, his voice stiff with barely contained anger. "We followed the leads and handed OCTF their link to 'Doc' on a silver plate. As for it being their turf, the connections to the Russian Mob keep popping up in our investigation without our making any effort to find them. We had two more yesterday."

"Beyond Selina Yegorov, what are you talking about?"

"The FBI has linked the worm used to destroy the records at the Winthrop Academy to one used in a case they've been working for over a year out in Montana," the head of SVU replied. "We did a quick follow-up with one of our sources and confirmed that Andrew Phelps was involved in the land deal that was at the heart of that investigation. He was listed as an investor. He's the only common thread in both cases. Our source says he was fronting Mob money in that project."

Frowning, Samuels demanded, "Why am I just hearing about this now?"

"Warner just gave me the results of the DNA, chief," Cragen responded. "Det. Tutuola and I didn't get back to the stationhouse until after 11 last night. We were running down leads on the Selina Yegorov murder until then. We got a warrant and entered her condo early this morning… collected personal items for Warner to test."

"OK… so every one of these cases link back to Phelps in some way… father, lover, business partner," the Chief of Detectives summarized. "And SVU is the unit that pulled together all of these threads."

"Yes."

"And you're prepared to take the heat if the rumors one of your people leaked news of the raid hits the press?" Samuels stressed, knowing the answer before he asked the question. "Moser was adamant one of your folks had to be the source."

"Yeah, I am," Cragen stated. "Two of my officers were there for Christ's sake… could have gone up with the others if they hadn't been pushed back to the outer ring by Brooklyn's ESU. And, to put in bluntly, when the hell would they have had time? Det. Munch was in the hospital and was out of the loop… and my other detectives were tracking leads on the b&e that put him there. None of us got word of the raid until less than two hours prior. I can account for all of our time on an almost minute by minute basis since last week's attack."

A faint grin tugged at Samuels' stern features. "Hell of a week all the way around. You and your people have done some fine work… two kidnappings, the mess in Central Park, and the break in the Mob investigation. Talk to Chris and you two work out a plan for wrapping up what you helped get started. You and your people have earned the right to be there. If the rumor goes public, I'll take the heat."

-----

The young man that took a seat across the conference table from her looked younger than his 16 years… he also looked every inch the son of wealth and privilege. His parents and lawyer flanked him, adding to the appearance of a youth used to the protection and influence that came from having money and powerful family connections.

Paul Morgenstern had enjoyed the best of everything… a private school education, luxurious homes, expensive clothes… every convenience of modern life. And he had thrown it all away in a moment of petty, vindictive anger. Now, he was a scared boy-man in a Riker's orange jumpsuit, unsure of how it had all gone so wrong so quickly.

His flamboyant attorney, Oliver Gates, fixed her with a condescending smile. "I trust we can resolve this unpleasantness quickly, Casey, and allow my client to get on with his life. I…"

"'Unpleasantness', Oliver?" Casey retorted, refusing to allow him to assume control of their meeting. "That's hardly an apt description of the brutal assault and attempted rape of a young woman by a gang of thugs. Your client willingly took part in that attack, so tell me why he deserves to have me ignore any of that?"

"Now see here," interjected the elegantly dressed man seated to Paul's right. "I take great exception to your calling my son a thug! I demand…"

"Lucy Hellman was attacked without provocation, shoved down a hill causing one of her legs to snap in two. Your son and his buddies then brutally beat her… were only prevented from gang raping her by the timely intervention of a jogger. That woman was stabbed and very nearly beaten to death for her trouble," Casey emphasized, ignoring his posturing. "Your son willingly took part in the planning and execution of that attack… planned to take his turn in raping her. I think thug fits the crime."

"I love Lucy! I didn't mean for her to get hurt," Paul exclaimed. "I just through they were going to scare her a little. I never…"

"You thought shoving her down a hill to be beaten and gang raped wasn't going to hurt?" Casey demanded, her tone conveying her disbelief at his comment. "You have a very strange way of demonstrating your love!"

"I will not tolerate your attitude," Albert Morgenstern insisted. "You will treat my son with the respect he is due."

"I am," Casey responded. "I speak for the victims, not the defendants, Mr. Morgenstern. He lost the right to my respect the moment he became part of the gang that attacked her."

"My son isn't bad," Renee Morgenstern cried, clutching her husband's arm. "He made a bad decision… let older boys lead him astray, but he's a good boy. When he saw what was really happening, he tried to leave…"

"When the reality of what was happening finally became clear, he tried to run away, leaving the girl he claims to love to the mercy of the other boys," Casey corrected. "He made no attempt to help her… no attempt to get her help… no attempt to stop the entire attack before it went that far. He willingly took part in the plan. Paul and the other boys will face these charges as adults. If he is convicted, he will serve his time in a maximum security penitentiary… be labeled a sex offender for the rest of his life."

"You're assuming you can convict him, Casey," Gates began, sending his client's mother a comforting smile. "I wouldn't be too sure…"

"Save it, Oliver," Casey scoffed. "I have a rock solid case against your client and his friends and you know it. He will be convicted and he will serve hard time… unless you can convince me otherwise. Frankly, we're wasting our time if all you want to do is claim he's a poor innocent boy wrongly accused. I'm not buying that and neither is Arthur Branch."

Sighing, Gates looked over at Albert Morgenstern. Seeing his client's stiff nod, the attorney asked, "What do you want, Casey?"

-----

"I figured you wouldn't listen to the doctors and I'd find you here."

Looking up, Christina Larsson smiled in greeting. "Hi. Too much going on for me to take a vacation."

Nodding, Cragen walked the rest of the way into her office. "Not exactly a vacation, but I get your point. You got a minute? There's something you and I need to discuss."

Frowning slightly at his serious tone of voice, she nodded as she swept her hand toward the chair across from her desk. "Sure. What's up?"

Pausing to close the door behind him, he made a quick mental note that the blinds shielding her office from the squadroom were open. Under the circumstances, it was best not to invite gossip. Satisfied, he took the seat she had indicated. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better," she offered, her confusion at his actions clear. "Don… what is going on here?"

"I need to update you on a meeting I just had with Samuels," Don began. "SVU is back in the mix."

Frowning, she asked, "What do you mean… back in the mix? I was told you and your unit handed the investigation off to us and went back to your normal turf."

Catching her eyes in a tight hold, he prompted, "George Moser the source of this information?"

Her eyes flickered slightly, betraying her surprise at his question. "Of course. He's second in command around here, so he updated me when I got back. Why is that important?"

"We didn't opt out, Chris," he offered. "Samuels pulled us at Moser's insistence. The Chief told me Moser questioned my people's reliability… suggested they were the ones to leak the time and place of the raid on the club. Apparently, he went as far as to suggest it might not have been an accidental slip."

"What???" she exclaimed, an angry flush stealing up her throat. "George would never…"

"I got that from Samuels himself, Chris," Cragen inserted. "He told me to work it out with you. That's why I came by as soon as I left his office. I don't want this to get in the way."

Holding his gaze, Chris quickly picked up on the unspoken part of his message… he didn't want it getting in the way of either their profession or possible personal relationships. Nodding, she agreed. "Neither do I, Don."

"Good," he responded, his features softening slightly having that part of their conversation behind them. "Then there's more I need to tell you."

-----

3-25-2009


	29. Chapter 29

Title: Blind, Chapter 29

Author: Sorsha_711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, Tutuola/Benson, others implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh!  
Summary: A brutal assault in Central Park exposes a horrifying family secret… one that leads the SVU squad down paths none of them anticipated when they took the call. Munch-centric with heavy doses of the oh-so sexy Fin

A/N - Sorry for the delay in updating... RL and all that. I have drafts finished on the next few chapters, so I'll try to post more frequently. Feedback welcome.

Blind, Chapter 29

-----

"He needs to tell me everything he knows, Oliver… and, if he can convince me he had no part in the planning and execution of the assault… convinces me of his sincere regrets, I might be willing to discuss a deal," Casey responded.

"My client will tell you everything he knows… who did what and why," Gates offered. "In exchange, we'd expect you to drop all…"

"I'm not giving him a pass, Oliver," Casey interjected. "If he can convince me he wasn't one of the instigators and will testify at trial, I'm willing to consider transferring his case back to family court so that he can be tried as a juvenal… his records expunged at 21 if he behaves."

"What charge?"

"Let's hear what he has to say first," she responded.

Holding her gaze for several seconds, Gates finally nodded. "Paul, tell Ms. Novak what happened."

The teen fixed his eyes on the table in front of him, his fingers digging into the cheap veneer. "Ben was mad because Lucy refused to go out with him. She went out with Martin a few times, but broke it off because she didn't like the crowd he parties with. She made a lot of the guys at school mad by talking their girlfriends into taking that chastity pledge. She had no right to interfere with their girlfriends. Austin and Charlie warned her to back off and stay out of their business, but she didn't listen."

"So, it's her fault? The victim is to blame," Casey growled. "Oliver, we're wasting our time if your client continues to try to shift the responsibility for the attack to the victim."

Nodding slightly, Gates prompted, "Paul… you need to stick to the facts."

"But, I was only saying…"

"That girlfriends are the property of their boyfriends… that they have no right to decide if they are intimate with them or not?" Casey demanded. "Keep up that attitude and its only a matter of time before some other woman makes you mad… needs to be 'scared' into doing what you want."

"Lucy knows I love her," Paul cried. "I asked her out and she said no… that she didn't think of me like that. She said we were friends, but that was all. She had no right…"

Pushing to her feet, Casey began to gather her files. "I've wasted enough time…"

Reaching over to lay a hand on the teen's arm, Gates demanded, "Paul, you need to stick to the facts of the case."

Nodding, Paul slumped in his chair. Seeing this, Gates asked, "He'll stick to the facts, Casey. Let him finish."

Fixing the teen with a stern glare, she suggested, "You need to rethink your attitude towards women, Mr. Morgenstern. No means no. Lucy didn't owe you anything and you have no right to expect her or any other woman to accede to your overtures simply because you decide you're in love with them. Every man gets turned down at some point in life… so do women. If you can't accept that, I have no doubt you will be sitting across the table from me again before long. Got it?"

Nodding again, Paul squirmed in his chair. Seeing this, she prompted, "Tell me what happened?"

After a moment, Paul offered, "The Friday before the… before, I got a call from Eric Levine inviting me to a meeting at his house the next afternoon. I asked what it was about… I wasn't really friends with them. He said it was to discuss a mutual problem at school. I didn't know what he meant but… I wanted to hang out with them. Everyone wants to be in their circle… they're popular and the prettiest girls hang out with them."

"What happened at this meeting?" Casey pressed.

"Most of the others were already there when I arrived," he reported.

"I need names, Paul. Who was present?"

"Eric and Tom… Ben and Steven… Doug Williams and his sister, Jodi… Austin, Charlie," he recounted. "Sarah came in a few minutes later."

"Sarah?"

"Sarah Liebman," he supplied. "She's nuts about Martin, but… he barely knows she's alive. Sarah was jealous that he and Lucy dated… were talking again. Martin really likes Lucy, so he was trying to get her to give him another chance. I guess she likes him too since she was taking his calls again."

"OK," Casey responded, adding a note to check on the status of her requests for extradition on the two girls to her list of things to do. She also made a note to ask Lucy if she and Martin had talked on the day of the attack. "Why was Jodi Williams there?"

"She hates Lucy… Jodi's a real bitch," Paul observed. "Lucy is a lot prettier than she is and she can't stand that. And, she's Eric's girl, so I wasn't surprised to see her there. They're joined at the… hip."

"Was there anyone else there?" she questioned, looking up from her notes.

"A couple of other guys… Billy Mandel, Brett Kaplan… Kurt Miller… and Brad Cagney," the teen listed.

"Were they part of the group that orchestrated the attack?"

Meeting her gaze briefly, Paul quickly lowered his eyes, unable to face the stern gaze she was giving him. "Ben was doing the talking, but he was looking at Steven like he was checking to be sure he was saying it right. Ben tends to let Steven call the shots more than he wants to admit… always has. Eric and Tom were nodding along, so I guess they knew what the plan was before the rest of us."

Eyes narrowed, Casey demanded, "And the rest of you approved of this plan?"

"No… I didn't, but…" he began, only to stammer to a halt. "Billy and Brad left as soon as Ben told us what they were planning. They said they wanted no part of it and told us to forget about it unless we wanted to go to jail."

"Their names again?"

"Billy Mandel and Brad Cagney… both of them are seniors at Winthrop," the boy offered.

"OK. What about the other two names you listed… what are their full names?" she pressed, adding their names to the list of people to interview.

"Brett Kaplan… he's a junior like me and Kurt Miller. Kurt's a senior at Reynolds-Alston Prep," Paul reported. "He transferred last year… he dated Lucy for a while, but she dumped him when she found out he was sleeping with another girl. He went off in the halls, ranting about her refusing to sleep with him and then getting mad when he got it from someone else… knocked over some plants and trashed a painting. He was given the choice of transferring or being expelled… he chose to change schools. I guess they thought he was still mad at her about that… like it was her fault he went mental."

"Where were they the night of the attack?" she demanded, wondering if they had two more perps to arrest.

"They agreed to be at the park, but never showed up," Paul admitted. "I don't think they were too happy about the plan, so I wasn't surprised they bailed. I heard Kurt telling Brett his dad would rip him apart if he got into anymore trouble… assuming we all didn't get arrested for rape. I started to walk out with them and discuss how to get out of it before it went too far."

"Why didn't you?" she questioned. "Were you happy about the plan?"

"No! I wanted to leave the second I heard what they were planning like Billy and Brad did, but… Steven got in front of me... I felt… trapped," the teen insisted. "I swear I wasn't going to go that night… I'd planned to tell my dad what they were planning when I got home, but he was working in his study and didn't want to be disturbed. I… I started to talk to him several times that weekend, but I kept putting it off. I was going to go to his office that afternoon… stop it from happening, but Steven showed up at our house right after school… like he was there to keep an eye on me. He's… Steven scares the hell out of me."

Keeping her face carefully composed, Casey asked, "Why? He's your cousin, right?"

"Yeah," the youth agreed, shifting uncomfortably. "It's hard to explain… he… Steven…"

"Steven what?"

Casting a nervous glance in his father's direction, Paul whispered, "Steven doesn't… he doesn't like being told no. He gets mean when you do."

-----

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as Casey asked, "Has Steven… gotten mean with you?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Paul insisted, an hysterical edge making his voice shrill. "He's psycho! He told me he was there to make sure I didn't chicken out! I should have told someone… protected her, but… I went with him even though I knew it was wrong!"

"Why? Why did you go?" Casey demanded, noting the confused and worried looks on Paul's parents' faces… and the predatory gleam in Oliver Gates' eyes. This was obviously not something they had heard before.

"I wanted to warn Lucy, but… he said he'd kill me and I believed him!" Paul exclaimed, pushing back his chair and surging to his feet. Turning his back on the table, he walked to the room's only window… his hands compulsively gripping the frame for support. In a low, tortured voice, he whispered, "I love Lucy and I… but I was afraid he would… I'd rather die than… not again!"

Suspecting the answer before she asked, Casey gently pressed, "Had Steven hurt you before, Paul?"

A tense silence settled over the room, the only sound the harsh breathing of the teen staring out the window. Knowing she had to get an answer, for the sake of the boy as much as for the sake of her case, she asked, "When did it happen, Steven? You need to tell me what he did."

Albert Morgenstern jumped to his feet and stared at her with a mix of anger and horror. "What the hell are you suggesting? Steven is Paul's cousin for God's sake!"

Ignoring him, Casey repeated, "You need to tell me what he did to you, Paul."

"Paul… you need to be completely honest with Ms. Novak and tell her what happened," Gates urged, reaching over to lay a restraining hand on the elder Morgenstern's arm. "Tell her the truth and we may be able to help you."

In a gruff whisper, he offered, "He stayed at our house while his parents went to Europe for some conference… Uncle Andrew was giving a speech or something. Ben had gone on a hunting trip with their grandfather, so Steven was all alone. Mom volunteered to let him stay with us. One night… Mom and Dad were out. I was in my room playing video games and Steven walked in… asked if he could join me. I wanted to say no, but… he's my cousin. Mom had asked me to make an effort to be his friend… said he didn't have many because he had been skipped ahead of the kids his age when he was promoted at school. "

Rising to walk over and stand near the boy, Casey prompted, "OK, so you two were playing video games. What happened then, Paul? You need to tell me so I can help."

She had to lean closer to hear, "I didn't want him in my room… he's said some… sick things to me earlier."

"What sort of sick things?" Casey asked, noting the shivers that were coursing through his gangly frame.

"Just stuff… it made me feel creepy," the young man hedged, refusing to look her way.

Struggling to keep from pushing him to hard too fast, Casey urged, "OK… so you let him join you to play videogames."

"Yeah… we had been playing _Knight Quest_ for an hour or so when I leaned forward to change the setting…"

"And?"

"He hit me over the head with a lamp," Paul whispered. "I… he… I tried to stop him, but he hit me with the lamp again… it was… I couldn't tell anyone. I'm not gay and I didn't want Dad to think…"

His mother rose and rushed to his side. Trying to pull him into her arms, she cried, "You said you slipped in the bathroom and hit your head! Why didn't you tell us he attacked you?"

Pulling away from her attempts to embrace him, Paul continued to stare blankly out of the window. "I… what was I supposed to say? Dad would have… I tried to fight him, but… my head hurt and… blood was in my eyes. I wanted to throw up. He punched me in the stomach before I could get up and… I didn't want you to know."

"Why?" she insisted, still oblivious to the full extent of what had happened. "We would have made sure…"

Angry, the youth rounded on his mother and demanded, "You just don't get it do you? You never do!"

Albert Morgenstern rose and joined his wife, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "Paul… what are you trying to tell us?"

"Nothing… I'm not telling you anything," the teen retorted. "You'd have to be listening for me to tell you anything!"

"This hardly the place…" Morgenstern began.

Needing to move the conversation back to the case at hand before it degenerated into a family quarrel, Casey broke into their exchange. "Paul, tell me about Steven? What's he like?"

Albert Morgenstern answered, having decided it was time to take control of the conversation. "He and Steven used to be close friends when they were…"

"Steven has never been my friend! He's a sick bastard," Paul interjected, a long simmering rage making his voice hard and biting. "How can you not have seen? He has no friends because everybody is afraid of him. His parents can't even have live-in servants with little kids anymore. He likes to hurt them!"

"How do you know about this, Paul?" Casey gently pressed, moving to place herself subtly between him and his parents.

"Everybody knows… except for my clueless parents!" he exclaimed, his anger and resentment at their lack of awareness obvious.

"OK… what does everybody know?"

"That he likes to hurt people… do things to them. He's been like that ever since he was little," he muttered. "A guy from school tried to pick a fight with me last winter because Steven… hurt his little sister. They lived next door to them and… I heard she wasn't the only one."

"What was her name?"

"I don't know… Carol or something like that," Paul supplied. "Mark is her brother. Mark Purcell. Ben and Eric beat him up for spreading rumors. The Purcells moved… Mark transferred to a new school right after that."

"Ben covers for his brother?" Casey questioned, hoping to keep the teen talking.

"I guess…. Ben doesn't want to believe it about Steven… think about what he's really like," Paul speculated. "He hides from what a nightmare it is in their house by doing drugs."

"Do his parents know?"

"They must… I know Mark's parents threatened to go to the police… I was there when that happened," Paul offered. "Uncle Andrew pulled Mark's dad into the corner and… Mr. Purcell looked scared to death when they left. They sold their house and Mark transferred to a new school before the end of the semester. They had moved by the next time I visited."

"What about your aunt?"

"She pretends everything is OK, but… she knows something is wrong with him," he admitted. "I think… I think Aunt Martha worries about what he might do."

"Is she scared of him?"

"Maybe… hard to tell," he offered. "She and Uncle Andrew… she never seems happy."

"Paul… that is quite enough of this gossiping about family," Renee Morgenstern interjected, horrified by what her son was saying… as much for the fact he was telling an outsider as by the facts he was revealing about her brother's family.

Rising to join the group by the window, Oliver Gates offered, "We did promise that Paul would tell Ms. Novak what he knows. I think Ms. Novak is beginning to realize Paul has suffered greatly at the hands of his cousin and deserves full consideration for his help."

Pausing for a moment to filter through what she had learned, Casey agreed. "If his facts hold up, I'm willing to discuss a suspended sentence with the understanding he gets counseling to help him deal with what happened. But first, he needs to tell me the rest."

Wild-eyed, Paul looked in her direction. "What do you mean? I… there isn't anything else…"

"Did he rape you, Paul?" she asked, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. SVU had uncovered too much about Steven Phelps for her to doubt what had happened. She had tried too many cases… talked to too many victims of rape not to recognize one still coming to terms with what had been done to him.

"Raped???" both parents exclaimed, unable to take their eyes off of their son. The look of panic and dread that swept over his face was all the confirmation the adults needed.

"It's not your fault, Paul" Casey soothed. "He hit you over the head… attacked you. You tried to fight him off, but… you didn't do anything wrong. Steven did."

"I'm not gay," he whispered. "I didn't want him to…"

"Nobody thinks you did," she promised. "Did he rape you?"

Unable to speak, the teen finally nodded.

-----

"His names not on the list Cambiati left in his affidavit," Cragen replied, "but it seems to fit what we know about Steven's attacks on other children. Since the attack occurred at the victim's home and his parents didn't know about it… not surprising this is the first we've heard of it. Young teen males are the least likely to report an assault. What do you want us to do about this Casey?"

Sighing, she requested, "His parents have given us authorization to obtain his medical records for the night in question. His mother took him to the hospital for x-rays thinking he had fallen in the shower. See if the records support his claims… shouldn't be hard to confirm if the dates for his hospital visit overlap with the Phelps' trip to Europe. Thanks to the date on the hunting knife used in the attack on Martin Danvers, we already have the date Ben was on the hunting trip with his grandfather."

"If we can connect the dots, are they willing to file charges for rape?" Cragen asked. "It will be tomorrow at the earliest before I can get anyone working on this. Fin is out running down a new lead on the Walters case and my other detectives are strung pretty thin helping cover for the three we have out on medical."

"Don't worry about it. I'll get one of the investigators McCoy assigned to me to get us a copy of the hospital records. As for whether or not they will be willing to file… I don't know," she admitted. "His parents are in shock… Paul is angry and ashamed about what happened. At this point, I doubt it."

"Not surprising."

"No, its not," the ADA agreed. "At the every least, I need to know if he's telling me the truth. If he is, I'm willing to let him pled guilty to assault in Family Court, probation, and mandatory counseling. In some ways, rape has a wholly different emotional impact on a boy… it makes him feel his sexuality is in question."

"Do you want Huang to talk to him?"

"Yeah, not a bad idea," Casey agreed. "I'll ask Gates to arrange a time. It may be the closest we come to getting him inside of Steven's head. George needs to be able to convince a jury that a 13-year old boy managed to control the others."

"This might also open the door for our other defendants to claim they were only there because they were afraid of Steven… that they were his victims too," Cragen pointed out. "Are you prepared for that?"

"Let them try," she replied. "The only reason I was willing to meet with Paul was our investigation showed he didn't actively participate in the attack on any of our three victims. He tried to run and was restrained by Doug Williams. The others all took an active role in the assaults, so they don't get a pass regardless of whether or not they can tell a sob story."

-----

5-13-2009


End file.
